


This War of Ours

by JeromeSankara, Musiusi



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Post-War, Angst, Car battery!Tony, Catatonic, Discord: IronStrange Haven, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Hurt Stephen Strange, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, PLOT TWIST: THEY'RE BOTH MORONS, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Slow Burn, Stephen Strange & Wong Friendship, Stephen Strange Needs a Hug, Support Group, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Touch-Starved, Trauma, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 01:13:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 138,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19367236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeromeSankara/pseuds/JeromeSankara, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musiusi/pseuds/Musiusi
Summary: The Great War has ended. The world is in shambles. Civilians are left to pick up their own pieces and return to whatever life they have left. Stephen Strange is a doctor who has stared death in the face and watched it burn. Tony Stark was used for his weapon knowledge and is now trapped to a car battery to live. Now both meet at a support group, where they attempt to move past their traumas. The war may be over, but recovery has barely begun.





	1. Day One

Why was he doing this, again?

Stephen stared blankly at the double doors before him, studying the groove of the wood. His eyes connected the bullet holes to crisscrossing patterns, where semi-automatics had once sprayed every inch they could with destruction. There hadn’t been time to even think about replacing broken windows or doors, not when their entire world was wounded and still bleeding. Little things like these had to wait.

Little things like recovery. Like getting help. Help that Stephen honestly didn’t see the point in reaching out for.

Stephen’s left hand twitched as it wrapped around his right arm, tugging at the thick cloth that was wound across the limb. Had to make sure it was covered. The last thing he wanted were questions, raised eyebrows and whispers. But if what he expected was true, Stephen would not be the only ‘damaged goods’ on display.

He took in a deep breath, and tried to tell himself that he was still imagining the gunpowder that now stained his lungs. Just get it over with. Go in, sit, get out. Tell Tao and Wong that he had done it, that he was fine, that he was cured. It had to be just that easy.

Giving his arm one last squeeze, one that made pain shoot through every frayed nerve still twitching with life, Stephen reached out to the door. His fingertips barely connected, just enough to push it open, but he could swear he still saw the stain of his touch like soot. Breathe. Get in, sit, get out. The door opened, and Stephen’s heart fell to the pit of his stomach.

Damn. Here he had been hoping no one would come to this sham of a meeting.

A few lightbulbs hung from the ceiling, dangling string below them to turn them on and off. One look inside told Stephen that this building, whatever it may have been before, was gutted and emptied out. All that remained inside was a table with papers and folding chairs arranged in the classic circle. When he took in another breath, he caught the tang of coffee and depression. Yes, he was at the right place.

Heads turned to meet him, all staring just as blankly as Stephen did in return. No one wanted to be here, meaning Stephen fit right in, yet he still tucked his right arm behind his back. Don’t draw attention, get in, sit, get out. So he got in.

His steps were hollow on the wood as he walked inside the room, and his eyes darted between the faces of the others, none lingering long enough for recognition. Just counting the heads. There were eleven, and twelve chairs were set up. He was the last one. Damn. He looked to the table to his left, where there was a single white sticker name tags remaining, waiting for his name to be written upon. Stephen didn’t give it a second glance and instead focused on a few cups of coffee still sitting out. Chances were that it was cold, but it was free and it would distract him from this meeting, so he reached out and plucked out one cup. Stephen then had to set it back down to gain a better grasp on it with his left hand. All the while, he made absolutely sure that he did not brush it against anything else. Just the cup. He’d dispose of it properly once this was done.

For all the people that sat in the cheap folding chairs, there was one man who was prestigious enough for an old kitchen chair. With one quick look at his nametag, Stephen identified him as ‘Fury.’ Stephen barely held back a snort. He didn’t think this would be some sort of fantasy roleplaying group he was wandering into. But he held his tongue and instead searched for his seat.

All Stephen needed to see was that empty seat and he diverted straight towards it. He didn’t look up, he didn’t make eye contact, he just sat. There, two out of three parts were accomplished. He got inside, he was sitting. Now to wait for an hour or two for this to finally end. Stephen just stared down at the murky puddle inside the cup, not yet able to will himself for a sip.

“You gonna finish that?”

A smooth voice spoke to his right, and Stephen instinctively tucked his right arm closer to his body. “I haven’t even started,” Stephen said dryly, still staring into the coffee. From the smell alone, Stephen knew that this coffee was barely more than coffee-colored water. Then again, coffee beans were expensive now. Whatever pleasantries anyone could have in everyday life were near impossible to find.

But Stephen just couldn’t work up the will to drink it.

Without passing a glance, Stephen just leaned over and set the cup onto the floor in front of the chair next to him. If the other person was that damn eager for the coffee, he’d pick it up himself. Stephen retracted his hand as soon as he released the cup, tucking it into his lap. There, interaction complete. That was his quota met for the day.

“Well, now that everyone’s here,” a deep voice started, “I’ll get this started. I’m Nick Fury, and I’m the host of this meeting.” It was too fitting that ‘Fury’ was the leader of this stupid post-war therapy group. “Whatever questions you got, I’ll answer them. We’re gonna start with presenting ourselves. Name and why you’re here.”

Fury cleared his throat, and it was just enough to make Stephen raise his head. Fury was on the other side of the circle, almost directly opposite of him. The first thing he saw was the eyepatch strapped to his face, with bandages still tucked beneath and peeking out from the edges. Stephen’s brain already started churning with possibilities, diagnosis, recovery options and proper care for the wound. He couldn’t stop it if he wanted to, but he could at least stay quiet.

“I’m Nick Fury, and I’m here because I lost most of my troops in battle two years ago. I lost brave men, and now I’m here for the other brave people who are lost. Who’s next?”

Silence. Stephen dropped his head again, staring at the dirty floor. There had been some attempts to sweep away the grime, but there was still a thin layer of dirt and debris scattered across. He focused on a few cigarette butts in particular, burned down to the nub. There were subtle sounds in the rooms, one that beat against his skull. Someone was shuffling their feet. Someone else drank the coffee. Two people were twitching in their seat. Another was breathing noticably harder than the others.

“Like it’s gonna be that easy. You really think we’re just gonna talk about ourselves like that, boss?”

The person beside him again. With a quick glance to his neighbor’s feet, he saw that the cup had been moved, but was now empty. That was fast. Maybe Stephen should have drank it after all. His mourning over his lost coffee didn’t last long as Fury spoke up again. “Then why don’t you go first, Stark?”

More silence. Then ‘Stark’ cleared his throat and shifted around in his seat. “I’m Tony Stark, and I got a car battery hooked up to my chest.”

Stark had said the words so bluntly, so casually that Stephen thought he had misheard. But just to confirm his thoughts, Stephen decided to look up for the first time to the person sitting next to him.

And yep, the first thing that caught his eye was the huge car battery just sitting on his lap. Stephen blinked. Now, Stephen had been a doctor for a very long time. He thought he’d seen it all. This… no, he certainly had never seen this before. Just as his mouth dropped open to ask, though, his eyes drifted up to Stark’s face.

It was like Stephen was staring at a completely different person. The man who owned the voice and the body who owned the car battery shared almost no similarities. The man sat in his chair, a little slumped but with his chin tilted up. Stephen could practically feel the arrogance vibrating off of him, with sunglasses perched on his nose and a taunting grin on his face. Yet his hands were clasped around the battery, holding it securely like at any moment someone may reach out to snatch it away.

From the corner of his eye, Fury just arched an eyebrow in Tony’s direction. His arms crossed over his face and he leaned back in his chair, obviously waiting.

“What?” Tony scoffed in return, and Stephen saw one of his hands tense on the car battery even as his expression didn’t fade for an instant. “That’s gotta be enough info for this. I broke the ice, it’s someone else’s turn now.”

That was when Tony turned his head, and he met Stephen’s eyes, who had still been staring this entire time. In that moment, a jolt ran through Stephen’s body and he tore his gaze away, staring back to the floor. No, just ignore him. Someone else. Someone, _please,_ just-

“Hey, free coffee guy, get yours over with. What’s your name and why are you here?”

Fuck. He made a small reminder to never give that man his coffee ever again if this was the thanks he got in return.

“Thanks, douchebag,” Stephen muttered under his breath, but apparently not low enough to be unheard when Tony just let out a short, dry laugh. Well, fine. Just get it over with.

Stephen sucked in a deep breath and gave himself a quick shake. Just say it, say just enough to not have to take questions. “I’m… Doctor Stephen Strange. I worked with doctors without borders.”

Past tense. Because there was no way in hell Stephen would ever be able to go back, no matter how much he tried. The risk was too great. And the memories will never fade.

“See? That wasn’t so bad. Wear your damn name tag next time.”

Stephen’s hand clenched, before reaching up and wrapping back around his arm. Not a chance, he thought. There wasn’t going to be a next time, he already decided. The first chance he got, Stephen was going to worm out of this damn thing and hole himself back up. This was the breath of fresh air everyone had been telling him to get, but it was sour and putrid on his tongue.

It was halfway through the next presentation that Stephen felt his mind finally starting to detach again. Thank God. If there was anything that was working, it had to be the meditation that both Wong and Tao had been absolutely persistent upon. This wasn’t nearly the same, and noise would break through the bleak nothingness, but it was enough. It blanketed him in white noise, where everything else was a blur, and he could just drift off.

It was far from healthy, Stephen didn’t need his many years in medical school to tell him that. But it worked. As long as he could think of nothing, then he wouldn’t think of _that._ And, apparently, it helped the time pass by much better than he first expected.

Because there was something waving in front of his face, and it took a few blinks for his eyes to focus upon it. Someone’s hand. And there was that voice again.

“Earth to coffee guy, you still with us?”

Tony again. It seemed like he was running these meetings more than Fury was.

“We’re good to head out. It was just storytime today.”

It was enough to coax Stephen to lift up his head, blinking again at the lights dangling from the ceiling. Tony was standing over him, with the car battery under one arm and held at his side. Stephen idly wondered if he _really_ had to carry it around with him constantly or if it was more of a show and tell.

Tony smirked once their eyes finally met, or as well as Stephen could with Tony’s hidden under the shades. “We’ll get into the grit next week.”

“This isn’t your first time,” Stephen plainly stated, and Tony just shrugged the shoulder not holding the battery. 

“You get use to it. Coffee always sucks, everyone’s a stick in the mud, and you don’t feel any better right away.”

“Good to hear.”

Tony still stood in front of him, like he was expecting Stephen to do or say something. He unfortunately wouldn’t be getting what he wanted, as Stephen just pulled himself out of the chair. The curfew would be starting soon, something that still had not been revoked. The last thing Stephen needed was to get in trouble for something as pathetic as curfew. Though as Stephen started to turn away, Tony stepped back in front of him.

“Next meeting’s at six next week. You’ll be there.” Tony flashed another smirk at him, then jutted out his right hand out to Stephen. Instinct almost caught Stephen before he could shove it back down, and he almost lifted his arm for the shake. But just as the thought entered his mind, it was scorned away. All Stephen could do was stare at his hand for a second too long, the familiar images plaguing him and twisting his stomach.

Without so much as a word or a passing glance, Stephen wove his way around the chairs and stepped away, making sure to keep a few feet of space between himself and Tony just in case the other man tried to force the shake. Stephen just let his feet carry him out the front door and into the street, where overturned cars and broken storefronts led him back home.

Well… whatever he was willing to call home.

By the time Stephen walked up to the front glass doors, one of them broken and barely hanging on, the skies had begun their usual downfall of rain. Stephen tucked his arm underneath his shirt, but it made little difference. The dressings would need to be changed for sure, now, as if Tao would even let him get away with skipping a night in the first place.

The usual scene greeted him, of sleeping bags and mattress littering the hospital entrance. Almost every foot of floor space was housed by someone or something, people just trying to make it to the next day. Stephen stepped through the memorized shapes, picking his way through the mess and making his way deeper inside. There were some new faces, as people would move in and out constantly. All Stephen cared about, though, was resting away the day.

Stephen nudged the nurse’s room open with his foot, glancing inside for the occupants. Almost immediately, he saw movement in the darkness. There were eight beds laid out, some originally hospital beds while others barely more than a spring frame covered with a sagging mattress. He squinted into the darkness.

Wong was laid out in his bed, a couple blankets thrown over him. It was starting to get cold at night as they neared their fourth winter, and they may have to drag out the heaters if rebuilding didn’t start soon. Stephen could see the broken earbud dangling off the side of the bed, connecting to an old mp3 player found in some rubble. It only had about three or four albums on it, but it was music. Wong had laid claim to the mp3, since it was one of the few things that helped him sleep at night when things became rougher than normal.

A few other beds were filled, doctors and nurses that finally could rest off the day. Others were empty to watch over the night. One bed creaked as someone stood, and Stephen felt a bit of his tension fall away.

“How did it go?” Christine greeted him, her eyes filled with feign brightness and interest. She received the customary shrug as an answer. “Tao’s waiting for you.”

“Of course she is,” Stephen muttered, where Christine rolled her eyes in response. She motioned for him to follow, making sure to keep at least three feet of space between them. She had long given up on breaking into Stephen’s protective barrier, which was both a relief and a disappointment. She didn’t try nearly as hard as Stephen expected her to.

Christine held back the curtain that separated parts of the nurse’s quarters, and sure enough, Tao was sitting on a chair pulling on gloves, with the new dressings already laid out. Tao was the closest thing to a leader they had in this damn place, and Stephen knew better than to fight against her wishes. He’d been doing enough of that for the past month and it got him nowhere.

“We’re running low enough as it is,” Stephen reminded Tao, who shook her head.

“There will be replenishments soon enough. Now let me see.” She extended one hand out, a knowing look in her eye. “You’ve kept it wrapped up all day, didn’t you?”

No answer, because Stephen had the proof still wrapped around his arm. With little more than a sigh, Stephen stepped to the table and sat down in the open chair. He stretched his right arm out onto the table, and Tao clicked on the desk lamp. Using electricity was a blessing given by the generators, but they used it as sparingly as possible. Operations, evaluations, only the necessary times. Tao had already given him a lecture that this was just as necessary.

She started at the upper arm, using a dull pair of scissors to snip at the bindings. They fell away strip by strip, with the occasional wrap needing a gentle tug and a little water to unstick it from the wounds. “You need to let them dry out,” Tao reminded him, her eyes still focused on the revealed skin. Her thin fingers traced a few of the lines, tapping against them to test the skin. Some sent sharp spikes of pain through his body, and others gave him nothing. There was no hope for the nerves to be repaired, but that didn’t stop Stephen from hoping that he’d feel _something._ Even pain.

“How was your meeting?” Tao asked, not lifting her eyes up from the unwinding bandages. They were down past his bicep now, Stephen could feel the tingle of air brushing against some weeping wounds.

“Nothing exceptional,” Stephen replied dryly. He flexed carefully against the remaining binds, watching the skin move. He watched the color change as Tao took off more and more of the wraps, watched the skin turn from a thick, angry red, then start to pale again. But it didn’t return to the healthy peach. It just turned… white.

By the time Tao came to the hand, Stephen had to look away. The bandages stuck to the skin more often here, and each tug was accompanied with soft apologies from Tao, all met with silence. He wished he could say he wasn’t used to this. He wished that he _wasn’t._ He wished for a lot of things, though. As Tao began to wash the wounds and rebind, Stephen let them filter through his head again.

Stephen wished he could have saved someone that day.

Stephen wished to never have to see another bullet wound or burn on a civilian.

Stephen wished this had never happened, that war hadn’t spilled out across the globe in the first place.

But Stephen also wished that everything could just… go away. That wouldn’t happen, though.

Because war leaves scars behind, a constant reminder that he survived. Stephen wished he didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cover art created by the amazing TheDanielHD! He has a [Twitter,](https://twitter.com/thedanielhds?lang=en) [Instagram,](https://www.instagram.com/thedanielhd/?hl=en) [ Tumblr,](https://lovethedanielhd.tumblr.com) and so many more! Give him some love <3


	2. Rule One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Session number two, and Stephen is no more confident in this group's ability to help him recover than last time.

There were rarely good days in the world they lived in. No matter how hard they tried, how much they worked, there was always more to do and not enough hands to help. But there was always a day that brought a bit of brightness into the dreary world.

Replenishment day.

The entire hospital was buzzing from top to bottom. Boxes upon boxes were carried up the stairs and stored away, where any complaints about the heaviness were said with a grin. It was the day that they were the busiest in the best way as people waited for their relief kits and ration cards. Being one of the first weeks since ‘the end,’ for however long that would last, people were starting to leave shelters to venture back out into the ravaged land. That meant that there may be supplies for everyone, and if they were lucky, some to spare.

While Stephen wasn’t one of those to help pass out items, he was keeping himself occupied in the former nurses’ lounge by tallying up the supplies they received. It would go much quicker if he could just write the number, but it was still a massive struggle to write with his left hand, so he did simple tallies of each item instead.

Bandages were restocked and there was a fresh supply of blankets. Canned foods were towering up, but Stephen knew better than to be in awe. It was surprising how quickly they went through whatever canned food they were given, with so many mouths to feed. There had been days where meals would be given only every other day to ration out the supplies. There had been times that Stephen himself would go hungry for a week at a time, if just to keep the supplies from running low.

He didn’t want to look at an empty supply room again. Those few times had been enough.

As he counted, though, he heard the door creak open behind him. His hand tightened on the pencil and he swallowed down the lump in his throat as he looked back, only to see Tao. Perhaps they needed to start locking the doors again for a bit of peace of mind. Some tend to get greedy on supply drop days.

Tao stood in the open doorway, and Stephen saw by her furrowed brow that this was not a cheerful meeting. “Stephen, what time is it?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest.

Stephen just blinked, then stared down at his right arm out of habit. He flinched then silently dug his hand into his pants for his pocket watch. He clicked it open and stared at the scuffed glass. “Five thirteen. I’ll eat when I finish.”

“I’m not talking about dinner. You have somewhere to be at six.”

_Shit._

“I don’t recall ever telling you what time my meeting was,” Stephen muttered, pocketing his watch again. “Or what day. Or that I was even going back _at all.”_

“Stephen Vincent Strange.”

Stephen winced. Tao wasn’t even his mother, yet the words still carried the sharp impact. “There was no point in going in the first place. If I need to get fresh air, I can go anywhere else.”

He tried to ignore the sound of Tao’s footsteps coming closer, but that became impossible as she pulled the pencil out of his grasp and the clipboard from where it was laying against his arm. “You’re going back to the meeting, and you’ll keep going until I say so.”

“I get enough sob stories walking through the door every day, here. Why should I go listen to a few more for a few hours a week? It’s pointless,” Stephen stubbornly replied as he stared at the crates, even as her words continued to bring chills down his spine. But if there was anyone who was willing to speak his mind to Tao, it was Stephen. Usually.

A quick tap of the pencil to his cheek brought this attention back to Tao whether he liked it or not, and he was trapped the moment he met her eyes. “The reason you need to go isn’t for you to suffer more. You need to lift the weight off your shoulders somehow, and we both know that is impossible here. You need a place of your own, a sanctuary you don’t have to hide.”

Stephen hated it when Tao got this way, mostly because ‘this way’ was when she was right and Stephen refused to admit it. His teeth ground together for a moment to hold back a sharp retort, as it would get him nowhere. “I have this hospital. I’m a doctor. I have people to help.”

Had.

He _had_ people to help. Not anymore, not like this.

Tao must have some access to his thoughts, because his own bitter thoughts reflected back. “You can’t help anyone like this, physically or emotionally. This isn’t something you can stitch close, _Doctor.”_

“Because of my hand.”

“Because of your own stubbornness that won’t let you heal.”

Tao’s eyes flashed, still refusing to relinquish Stephen from the albeit one-sided conversation. “You keep your bandages on when your wound needs to breathe. You can’t sleep properly for a single night.”

“When’s the last time you had a good night’s sleep?” Stephen cut into her words, though could feel his resolve slipping. Tao’s eyes narrowed back at him, and he almost wished he held his tongue.

“Meditation is a substitute, one that you currently cannot possess because your mind won’t allow it.” Reaching up, Tao sharply tapped her fingers between his brows, which he was much too slow to react from. “Go to your meetings and bring back the lessons. Perhaps we can use them for the others as well.”

“So I’m the guinea pig.”

“Of course,” Tao smiled devilishly, then turned back to the crates. She twirled the pencil between her fingers skillfully, already checking on Stephen’s counts. “Now go. Tell me about it when you get home. That’s your assignment.”

“Oh goody,” Stephen sighed, trying not to roll his eyes _too_ hard. Though just as he turned away, Tao jutted out one hand to him.

“Here. I know you didn’t eat this morning.”

Stephen just grumbled and took the handful of granola bars out of her hand. They tasted like cardboard glued together with some nuts, but it was better than nothing. Perhaps one day they’ll enjoy real food. That day wasn’t going to be today, though, Stephen realized as he bit into the bar on his way out the door. Maybe he would need the coffee to wash it down.

* * *

This time, Stephen was not the last one. According to his watch, he was a couple minutes early. That didn’t make any difference with the coffee, though, as it smelled just as weak as last time. Maybe he would just skip the coffee today.

Just like before, he bypassed the nametags and kept his head down. The same seat he had sat in last week was vacant, and just like last time, that man with the car battery on his lap was waiting. Granted, the man probably didn’t have much to do, being connected to a battery constantly.

It took a couple seconds for Stephen to jog his memory for a name, which was strange because the man was anything but ordinary. He doubted that many would remember his own first name, and he would just get more rounds of ‘Strange’ being called out.

Stephen picked his way over to his chair and sat down, and even before he could get settled, Tony reached his hand out.

“You know you wanna,” Tony grinned, clearly eyeing the coffee in his left hand. Stephen nearly snorted, but the nerves were already coming back.

Stephen just repeated the motion of last time, setting the cup down at Tony’s feet and kept himself firmly within the restraints of his seat. Though this time he watched out of the corner of his eye as Tony leaned down to grab the cup, and with a couple swift gulps, it was empty. Stephen blinked. That had to be hot, still. Even when he had held the cup strictly by the tips of his fingers, he could feel the steam radiating off the drink.

Tony crushed the cup in his hand and tossed it in the vague direction of the trash can, no doubt missing. The room had been cleaned up slightly from last time, with less rubble scattered about, but other than the clearing in the center, there was little improvement. The officials would focus on major highways for their cleanup efforts, and then perhaps the hospital will finally get some care. Most would think that a hospital would be high up on any list to keep fully supplied and functioning, but war had a habit of scattering people’s thought process.

Turning his attention to the others, or rather to their shoes, Stephen counted six other people, not counting himself, Tony or Fury. Three people were missing, but it could be a general case of cold feet. God knows Stephen would have been one of them had it not been for Tao. Recently, it felt like she was the only one keeping him on his feet and not just dissolving away.

The door opened, but Stephen didn’t look back to see who it was. Instead he let the sounds explain. Heavy steps walked up to the table, and something was scribbled down. Probably a name on the tag. A pause, then the steps came to the circle of chairs. They sat down two chairs away, on Tony’s other side. It was only then that Stephen glanced out of the corner of his eye.

The man was shorter than himself, with a thin build and some graying in his dark hair. Though, there were very few people who didn’t go a bit gray through the last few years. One quick glance to his chest told Stephen that his name was ‘Bruce,’ but honestly he would have known that if he had paid attention at all to the first session. There was an air of sophistication from the man, who seemed just a little bit more at ease than the rest of the group. Perhaps this wasn’t his first time either.

Probably not, if just because Tony was soon snickering to him under his breath, Bruce responding with a smirk and a low rumble. Of course. Stephen stared back down to the ground, tucking his left hand back into his lap.

“You forgot your name tag, free coffee guy,” Tony spoke up beside him. “Better go grab it before Fury gets on your ass.”

Stephen scoffed. “Seems you’ve already replaced my name,” he sighed down at his feet, checking the bindings on his right arm again. Still in place. Tao had told him to let them air out, but not tonight. Not with strangers that would only poke and prod physically and mentally.

“I have to call you _something,”_ Tony grinned, then dragged his chair a little closer. “Everyone’s gotta have a name from me. Tradition.”

Tony’s arm came from his peripheral, pointing out into the group. It was enough to prompt Stephen to look up with it. He started with the person right across; Fury. “We got Scowler.” His finger moved from person to person in the circle. “Lebowski. Little Witch. Mercy. Queen of Hearts…”

Stephen followed the names and the faces, watching their expressions change with amusement or exasperation. There were some he still didn’t have named, but as he went around the circle, he soon trailed back to Bruce. “Science bro.” Bruce flushed and leaned back into his chair. Then Tony pointed back at Stephen. “Free Coffee Guy. Now you gotta return the favor.” As he said it, he reached up and nudged his sunglasses down his nose, letting Stephen get the first look into Tony’s eyes.

The first thought he had was that they were the color of whiskey and honey. Somewhere in his brain, they related to a lion’s mane. He had expected them to be dark, nearly black, but the color shined through as if someone had taken a paintbrush and painstakingly brushed the color into place. But Stephen shoved those thoughts back as soon as he came. Not the time to get metaphorical.

“You want me to name you?” Stephen raised an eyebrow, only to feel his insides twist up at Tony’s responding grin.

“If you ever want to upgrade from Free Coffee Guy, yeah. Unless you wanna go grab me another?”

“God, you’re a douchebag.”

Tony leaned his head back with a sudden bark of laughter. A warm shiver went through Stephen’s body at the sound. It had been so long since he heard laughter. Or anything warm. He had been surrounded by cold, unfeeling hospital rooms, with quiet bodies trying to preserve their strength. Anything that was warm came from… burning. Blistering hot. Not this. How long has it been?

“I’ll take that for now. Shorten it to Douche if you want to.”

Was this what it felt like? To be warm, to have someone who wasn’t a patient, wasn’t a doctor, wasn’t-

A sharp jolt ripped through his body, a bolt of electricity striking every nerve still alive within him. In a sudden rush, Stephen ripped himself out of his chair and stumbled back, the blinding sensation assaulting every part of him.

Touched. He had been touched. Burning. It was burning through him, burning so hot, burning him to the bone, straight through, eating away at his skin, get it off, get it off!

Stephen clutched his good hand against his right shoulder, nails digging into his worn shirt to scratch it away. Peel the flesh, extinquish it, had to get it off before it burned deeper.

“Stephen!”

The name twisted in his head, shouting at him, wailing, begging, pleading. The hands grabbing at him, tearing at his clothes, burning him, blazing him, they wanted to live, there was nothing he could do, they just _burned-_

“Stark, sit down.”

The deep voice was commanding, firm yet calm. But when he opened his eyes again, all he could see was the smoke drifting off the bodies. Everyone was on fire. Everyone was burning. Someone was in front of him, he was burning, he could see his eyes, whiskey eyes glazing in death, why couldn’t he help him? Why couldn’t he just help!

“Stephen, I need you to breathe.”

Stephen blinked, and the smoke cleared. The man in front of him had changed from that burning body to Fury, hands extended at his sides. Empty handed. No weapons, no fire. The lungful of air he dragged in was free of the smoke and the smell of garlic. His eyes struggled to focus on something, anything, but he managed to lock his gaze onto the white gauze beneath the eyepatch.

What would he do for that wound, his mind whispered. What would he do for a lost eye? He would need to keep the wound clean. Need to fill the gap to protect it from infection. The steps took control of the panic, and the rest of his vision started to come back into focus.

He knew this room, he was at the meeting. There were people standing, all eyes on him, but the man was his barrier between them. His safety. Stephen felt his arm ache with how it clung to himself, his fingers still snarled into his wounded shoulder. Just past the man, Fury, Stephen saw Tony. His hand was still stretched out. Stephen prayed he was imagining the burns that laced each finger. A few more blinks, and those faded as well.

Stephen swallowed, his throat dry and scratchy. He was coming back. A few more shuddering breaths, then Fury took a step back. The other man reached back and pulled the collapsed chair off the floor, sitting it correctly. “Come, sit down,” was all he said before he walked back into the circle. It gave Stephen more room to breathe, and thankfully, most of the people were watching Fury. Tony, on the other hand, was still standing with one arm wrapped around his car battery and the other still reaching out.

Stephen didn’t move, not while that hand still reached out.

“And that is rule number one; there will be no physical contact unless it is consented by both parties.”

Tony jerked his arm back suddenly, cringing back down into his chair. It felt like a weight was lifted from Stephen’s chest, but not all the way. His lungs still felt tight.

Fury continued to talk as Stephen crept back to his chair, thankfully already pulled back far from the group. “Rule number two; what happens in the room stays in the room. That goes to rule three; we do not share any info of the people in the room to anyone. We do not tell anyone who we see, why they’re here, nothing. This is a safe space and everything will be held in these walls. Rule number four: there is no problem that is less worthy to be discussed and solved than anyone else’s. We have all suffered, and we will recover together. Are there any questions or problems with the rules?”

Silence claimed the room, everyone looking to the other as if waiting for someone to speak. No one opened their mouth. Stephen was just glad that the attention had already been so quickly diverted from himself.

It took time to pry his own hand off his shoulder, every finger stiff and the knuckles blistering white. Even now, though, the touch still burned. It throbbed beneath the surface, a constant reminder of the betrayal. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Tony staring at him. His mouth moved with apologies, but Stephen listened to none of them.

His warmth had turned back to fire, and was now burning away.


	3. Two Truths, One Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The session continues. All Stephen wishes is for it to be over.

“Our first exercise will be an ice breaker. God knows we need to break the tension in this place.”

Silence filled the room, as if that had been any different from the past ten minutes. They had been kind to give him a few minutes to breathe, talking amongst themselves. Tony had been dead silent the entire time, even when Bruce tried to prod him into a conversation. The entire time, he could still feel Tony’s stare. It burned almost as much as his arm.

Stephen still stared at the ground and tried his best to let his mind empty again, just like last time. He had done enough today, he had been hurt enough. Stephen wanted to go back home, to the hospital where supplies were waiting, where he could help with the rations, where he could actually be helpful and not sit in a creaking folding chair amongst the damaged he couldn’t help.

“We’re going to start with a classic; two truths, one lie. We’ll be focusing on before the war for this. Back from wherever you guys came from, before it went to shit. Think we can do that?” Fury sank down into his chair again, crossing one leg over the other and drumming his fingers on his calf. “Thor, let’s start with you.”

The man beside Fury jolted in his seat. Stephen only cast his gaze up a little higher, just to take in Thor’s full form. This was who Tony had named Lebowski, and damn did it fit. The man was overweight, stretching out the filthy shirt he was wearing. He had an untamable beard (as if Stephen was one to talk), and the way he sank in his chair, it just screamed _depression._ It was practically a reflection on himself. Well, without the weight. Stephen had only grown thinner through the war. It made him secretly envious to whatever food stock Thor had found.

“I, uh…” Thor’s voice was like a rumble, then he struggled to straighten himself in his chair. “So be it. The two truths are-”

“No, you have to let everyone else guess what’s the truth and what’s the lie,” Fury sighed into his hand. “Give us three facts, two are truths, one is a lie. We guess which one of those three facts is a lie.”

Thor flushed and squirmed in his chair again. “I had a brother my parents adopted as a babe when I was three. He had a pet snake named Hela that constantly attacked me. I can’t stand lightning storms.”

There was more silence for a few long moments, then a woman a few chairs away spoke up. “The snake. That’s the lie. That’s an awful name for a snake.”

Thor’s lips quirked on the edges, just barely. He shook his head. “No. Like my name suggests, I adore lightning storms. Hela was truly a beast in the size of a hognose snake.”

A small bit of laughter came from the group, and it seemed to lift the mood. The facts were relatively tame, no one attempting to get too deep into their personal lives just yet. They circled around slowly, and Bruce was next. Just like everyone before, he pulled himself up in his chair to sit a little straighter, something that Stephen knew he wouldn’t bother with.

“Alright, well… I’m a former scientist. I’m an only child. I was a bully in my high school.”

Stephen couldn’t help but furrow his brow. Most of the others always had their lies as the last point, being the one they had to consider the longest, and Bruce looked much too small to be able to beat up much of anyone…

“I got this. You’re an only child. You actually have five siblings.”

“Stark, that’s cheating,” Fury rumbled again, and Stephen could practically hear his eyes rolling back. Stephen held his tongue. He should know by now to never judge someone upon sight alone. Then again, Stephen was exactly as brittle as he looked at this moment.

“Fine, me next,” Tony sighed, his chair creaking as he leaned back. “I’ve been married for six years to a lovely woman named Pepper. I’ve had this shitty car battery hooked up to me for six months. And I would fucking kill for a cheeseburger.”

More silence. Everyone looked at each other, deep in thought. One even looked to Bruce, who shrugged. At least he wasn’t going to be breaking the rule.

Another woman, Stephen thought her nickname was Little Witch. “There’s no way there’s an actual person named Pepper.”

“Well, right and wrong. You’re right, that was a lie, but Pepper is a very lovely woman. Actually-”

“You’re not married.”

Stephen’s quiet words managed to call some attention, and the eyes burned back on him. He kept his head down, and he wondered how anyone could hear him at all. “You don’t have a ring on your hand. I would have felt it. Would have been cold.”

Tony stiffened up in his seat, tensing. But before he could say a word, Stephen was already speaking.

“I was born in Nebraska. My sister drowned in our lake when I was six. I have never killed another human being.”

Stephen could set his watch by the amount of silence. No one for the longest time spoke. Stephen just stared at his feet. He didn’t know why he said that. Honestly, he felt like he had insulted himself for being so petty. But the emptiness was back again, a sucking hole. And it just wanted to drag everyone else down with it.

“Is Nebraska a real place?” someone asked across the room. Stephen let out a tiny huff, the closest to a laugh that he could manage. If Stephen got a dollar for every time someone asked him where Nebraska was, he would have enough money to have shortened the war by two years.

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for a farm boy. You ride horses?” Tony asked, his voice careful and quiet. That got a bigger huff. The hole just sucked deeper.

“I was practically birthed onto the back of a horse.”

An uneasy rumble of laughter spread through the people. It seemed like no one was fishing for a real answer and decided they didn’t want to know the entire story. Maybe it was better that way. God knows that actually saying it aloud would hurt just as much as thinking it.

The group was quick to move on. They finished the circle with barely a pause. When the eyes returned to Fury, he cleared his throat.

“Alright, now that we know a bit about each other, we will be starting every new session with telling the group at least one improvement they made throughout the week and if you have noticed any differences since you started coming to the meetings. Then at the end of the meeting, we will share one fact that you have not told anyone else. Again, nothing we say goes past those doors and these walls. This all starts right now.”

That’s when Stephen shut back down. It was easier, for some reason. That sucking hole just dragged him back down into his quiet place, where the words couldn't reach, where the burning couldn't touch. It was a fascinating place, his head. Like a palace. Wandering through halls, of facts and events, all mindless. His brain constructed and deconstructed the human anatomy, ran through nerve pathways, and knit together wounds.

It was how he coped, honestly. Trying to think about what he knew, what he could do. How his skills could save someone who would be rushed into the hospital at any moment. But his coping methods were falling apart, because they always rotated back to his hands. When he would throw his mind into the operating room, it would stop the second his hands went into play. When he would reach for that scalpel, he would see the scars. His hand would lose its grip. The instruments would fall on the floor, as useless as the hands trying to hold them.

“...Hey, Stephen.”

His eyes fluttered open again. Tony. The first thing he did was look up to the clock hanging on the wall by one nail. It wasn’t time to leave yet. What did he want.

The others had stood up and were scattered around the room. Some were pulling cigarettes out of their pockets, shielding them from the others. Cigarettes were practically gold on the black market. One pack could guarantee you enough food for a week. Of course no one would openly share them with anyone else.

“I just, you know. I just wanted to say, I didn’t know you’d freak, I mean, not freak, but well, I guess freak a little bit-”

“Stop.”

Stephen’s throat ached around the word. He swallowed, but it gave no relief.

“I know, just, I’m sorry.”

Tony rushed past him, both arms wrapped tight around the car battery that sustained his life. Stephen kept his eyes down to the floor, but he heard the door opening and closing again. He would wish that Tony would just leave, but that wouldn’t happen. No one would be leaving now. It was just the break.

That didn’t mean Stephen was that much more willing to stay now.

* * *

Stephen’s fact that night had been that he had watched hundreds of people die in his career as a doctor. He didn’t say the actual amount. Maybe it’s because he lost track even before the war. While his expertise had been within neurology, he was on duty just as much as anyone else in the ER. He remembered the first time he felt someone die under his hands.

Ellie had been an elderly woman who had passed out behind the wheel of her car. It wasn’t the crash that had killed her, it had been the heart attack. But that didn’t make it any easier on Stephen. He remembered that moment when he thought that all his skills would bring this woman back, that he could save her, but no matter how hard he tried… She was just gone.

He had burned her skin with the paddles trying to bring her back. She had already been dead. She didn’t feel a thing.

Two weeks later, he had his second patient die. It was his first child casualty. His name was Robert.

Names twisted in his head, not a single one was he allowed to forget. He remembered their wounds, their final death rattle, their desperate cling to life… They all ended the same way. And as he walked through the entrance of the hospital, Stephen knew that something wasn’t right.

No one was smiling. No one was celebrating. The hospital felt fuller, crowded again. Their resources should have helped people on their way, people were getting better, why was nothing getting better?

His steps carried him to the nurses’ room, and when he opened the door, there was only Wong inside. He was sitting in front of the crates, staring down at the inventory counts. He was erasing and writing over them.

“The West District,” Wong murmured, never lifting his eyes up to Stephen. “The ration cards ran out. Someone had a gun. Fourteen.”

Of course.

The twisting turmoil in his stomach paused, just for a second, to let it all sink in. It didn’t matter if the government said that the war was over. It didn’t matter if things were supposed to get better. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

Nothing mattered.

A sound escaped from Stephen’s lips, hoarse and quick. It throbbed in his chest, trying to burst its way out. Wong looked up and stared, waiting. The silence only lasted for four seconds before that sound came again, longer, louder. His shoulders quivered with the sound, and twisting in his gut only knotted and squeezed out every drop of his will.

Then he just let go.

Stephen tilted his head back and laughed. He laughed hard. He laughed bitterly. He laughed until his lungs screamed at him for air. He laughed, he laughed, words managing to sneak in between.

“It doesn’t matter how many people we fix!” Stephen shouted for the world to hear. It echoed in the tile room, bouncing off the walls and only made it that much louder. “Everyone’s gone mad! Blood, just- that’s all there is!”

“Stephen-”

“Every stitch, every bandage, every person we fix, they just come back with more! It doesn’t stop! Humanity is gone! Sold it off for a bite of fucking rotten food!”

Wong stood, but Stephen just stepped back out of his reach, as if Wong would touch him to begin with. The laughter kept coming until his lungs were heaving with the effort and burned, until tears ran down his face. “It never ends, Wong! It never fucking _ends!”_

The air left his lungs as soon as they came, leaving him gasping, but he couldn’t stop. Not even as his brain felt fuzzy, scooping out whatever was left of himself and discarding it for the crows to feed from. His words turned broken, frantic, incoherent as the thoughts were starved of oxygen. “Never- Never ends! Bleed- all over- bandage, stitch, nah just come back! That’s all we are! Useless, nothing, end it! Nothing! _Nothing!”_

The world flipped onto its side and started to spin. Stephen felt pain rake through the right side of his body, but he didn’t care. Just laughed some more. They were just wheezes now, through his wracked throat that felt like it would start to bleed at any moment. Then everything turned quiet. It was just tears now. The sound of his ragged breath through his abused throat. The world spun and spun, colors and shapes mixing together in a slow tango. He watched them spin, watched them flicker, then they began to fall back into their lines and boundaries.

A bottle of water was set down right beside his head. With a shivering hand, Stephen dragged it closer and pulled off the cap, almost losing half the water all over himself. Yet it felt… good. The liquid running down his face, mixing with tears and sweat. Running into his beard and dripping onto the floor. He took three gulps of water before he had to pause. Let his mind come back to himself. Two more gulps. The water was almost empty. The room was silent, yet he knew Wong was still there.

Finally, Stephen tipped the water bottle to his face and let the water spill across, further pulling his mind back into place. There wasn’t time for this, Stephen knew that. There was work to be done.

By the time Stephen stumbled back up to his feet, Wong was back to the supplies and counting. He didn’t look up to Stephen, knew that would only set him off again.

“Thank you,” Stephen finally rasped, water still dripping down his face. He grabbed the edge of his shirt and wiped it away methodically. He took in a deep breath, then let it back out. “Where?”

“Three rooms over. Tao will fill you in.”

Good. Stephen nodded, even when Wong wouldn’t see. Alright. He was back. There was work to be done. Work Stephen needed to do.

He rolled the water bottle in between his fingers, the coolness of the water a necessary distraction from what would usually be the imaginary burn. Stephen set it down carefully on the edge of his bed to fill it back up later. One more thing that needed to be done. His mind was already straightening the steps in his head, the sudden break all but forgotten.

There wasn’t time for madness when you’re at war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the support on this series so far <3 Every kudos and comment keeps us going harder and harder to help this fic come to life <3 Something a little lighter will come next chapter.


	4. Rationing Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are duties that extend past the hospital, one of those being trips to the marketplace. While Stephen and Tao always try to make the trips as short as possible, they hit a snag. That snag's name is Tony Stark.

“Stephen Vincent Strange.”

_Shit._

It was a natural reaction at this point. Stephen’s body tensed from where he sat in one of the offices, and all he could think was that his attempts to find peace and quiet were as fruitless as ever.

“It’s not Friday,” Stephen groaned into his hand, letting his fingers run into his bangs. For just a moment, the idea of showering felt like a blessing he deserved. But then he remembered that every drop of water was going towards people not dying of thirst or for washing out wounds, and his greasy, tangled hair seems much less important. “I don’t have my meeting, so you can’t-”

“We’re going out to the market. You have ten minutes to meet me at the front doors.”

Another groan, and it took all Stephen had to not just let his body flop onto the floor in defeat. He was tired. Everyone was tired. The hospital was past its usual capacity, and with the injured still trickling in more than they trickled out, it forced every doctor and nurse on hand to work. It didn’t even matter if Stephen couldn’t use one arm. He didn’t need his hands to diagnose and guide the others. Only needed one hand to bandage. There was always something he could do, even if it wasn’t… being an actual doctor.

Stephen had just been through checking the gunshot wounds of the latest group. Two were still teetering on the edge, where even the smallest infection would spell their end. One barely made it to the operating table before bleeding out. Stephen was just morbidly relieved that he hadn’t been around for the initial panic, and was instead thrown dirtied bandages to dispose of.

Maybe that’s why Tao was so anxious to have him leave the hospital. To start the fire and dispose of the waste, both medical and… dead.

The days where he had been too injured to move, the stench of burning bodies invading his room… It only made everything burn that much hotter and the memories that much fresher.

If that was her intention, Stephen knew better than to fight against it. He glanced over his shoulder to the window, squinting at the clouds. It was hazy outside, like gunsmoke not yet cleared off the battlegrounds. Hopefully there will be no more of ducking under fire, trying to grab at the wounded under the haze, bellies to the ground and trying to drag them away to safety.

Stephen shuddered and stood up. Stop thinking about that. Stop _thinking._ But he may as well ask for the sun to not set tomorrow, or for the world to repair itself overnight. It just wasn’t possible.

* * *

No matter how many times they came to the market, no matter how many times they came prepared, Stephen was always the packmule.

Wary eyes drifted from shape to shape, a never ending tide of people, and the noise always pounded through his head for hours after. Shouts and voices, barking dogs, everything rattled his mind. But there was no time to wait and gather his senses, Tao had already gone ahead.

He could pick out her bright yellow hood a mile away, a coat that was much too long for her body and was shiny like a raincoat. It was the only color in the dreary market, where huts were made out of tin and siding, the mud sucking at their feet and only trodden further, and the misery that permeated the air. That, and her bright red scarf.

Even when she had been a combat medic, she always had that scarf tucked beneath her uniform. A lucky charm, perhaps. A memento from a loved one. Tao never said and no one ever asked. It was somehow still so vibrant after so many years of abuse.

“Come along, you’re dazing again.”

Stephen just huffed and found his opening in the crowd. It was practically a sixth sense, being able to move through the people without being touched. But it required his entire concentration, watching the movement, ready to jerk back or duck away at any second. It was at those times that his entire body felt like one live nerve with no skin to protect it. His left hand tightened on the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder, if just to keep himself from grabbing his arm out of instinct.

Tao almost made him take off the bandages, but Stephen reminded her that a crowded market was certainly not a sanitary place to let the wound breathe. Not when they always hovered around the medicine sections, where the sick gathered to plead for whatever can be scraped out of the bottom of a bottle.

He caught up to Tao after snaking his way up through the crowd, where she had stopped in front of a particular booth. She always paused here. Always checked. Her hesitation was longer, her hand tight around the stack of ration cards tucked to her chest, but then she moved onward. Stephen only allowed one passing glance to the vibrant orange Japanese fans before he followed. Maybe next time, Stephen thought. Maybe when the hospital started to empty, and every ration card wasn’t spent on necessities.

A sharp barking caught Stephen’s attention, and he looked to his right. Ah, the breeder. Dogs had their uses, normally as protection but otherwise for companionship.

“Sorry, these guys sold in thirty minutes. Maybe next week,” the shop owner said after matching Stephen’s gaze. Stephen just looked back to the dogs. Pit bulls. His heart sank, and he knew exactly where those dogs would end up.

He shook his head to clear the thought. Focus. They had already bought the vegetables, as Wednesday was always the time to buy them fresh. They use to have to come on Tuesdays, where whatever was left was practically given away. Unfortunately, more people got sick rather than fed. The fresh rolls of bandages were for personal use, mostly to Stephen’s insistence. If he was to live with this arm, he wasn’t going to use the hospital’s supply any longer. There were children staying at the hospital, and Stephen felt it in his gut that any extra cards left over would go for any comforts for them. Tao held the list for personal inquiries, so he just had to follow her and hope not much more would be piled into the bag.

“Batteries for Wong,” Tao suddenly said, veering off to the left. For the mp3 player of course. One quick cut through the traffic, and Stephen followed her down a small alley. The scrapers always seemed to have new things, even if Stephen had a good suspicion that they were scavenged from destroyed homes. They reached their regular stall in no time, and as Tao looked for anything else to catch her eye, Stephen just took a moment.

It wasn’t nearly as crowded. Everyone else was in a near frenzy for food, after all. Everything else was just icing on the cake no one had the ration cards to make. Out of the corner of his eye, Stephen gazed at the items. Everything he saw was just a fragment of normal life. CDs, tapes, small televisions, handheld games, things that Stephen would have never thought twice of now being sold for ridiculous amounts of ration cards.

Tao was busy exchanging the used batteries, practically every shop owner knew and recognized her if just by her peculiar clothing alone. They were often the ones who patched up the owners when customers would brawl over some ration cards. Still didn’t mean that they gave them any discounts. ‘Thank you’ doesn’t feed mouths.

But they knew that Tao was not just a healer. It was easy to look at her and think of her as an easy target. Even if she was tall, she was slender and appeared fragile like a porcelain doll. It took one attempt of someone trying to steal the ration cards in her hands and run for Tao to destroy the fragile image. When she would tell someone that there were six things at arm’s length she could use to kill them, she wasn’t lying. So the keepers knew better than to keep her waiting for anything.

Hell, some keepers offered her cards if just to watch over the stalls and prevent any theft.

Stephen chuckled under his breath. Tao was something else entirely. She was a pillar to the others, unmovable and steady. Exactly what was needed in times like these. He let his gaze carry through the alley, to the customers that would filter in and out. Perhaps one day, she would be allowed to rest. She deserved it.

And she also deserved those Japanese fans.

Stephen glanced at the shop keeper for just a moment, an unspoken agreement to keep her busy. The fact that the keeper paled was something he could ignore. He stepped back quietly, watching as Tao continued on without suspecting a thing. He just needed a couple minutes…

Though just as Stephen turned to exit the alley, his entire body froze.

No, not here. Not _him._

Stephen stumbled back, all of his plans emptied out of his mind. He was about to turn away when he caught the whiskey eyes, and they practically pinned him where he stood. Dammit, no, he had to move. Get out of this market. Never come back. Nope. Never again.

Like a child in a supermarket, Stephen almost plastered himself to Tao’s side, keeping his head down as best as he could. Just wait for him to pass by, then grab Tao and run. He listened so hard that his brain ached, trying to listen to the footsteps, but there was so much noise, everyone talking, everyone walking, he couldn’t focus-

“Strange?”

God _dammit._

Tao turned at the name as if it was her own, blinking. As if thinking Stephen just did not hear, she motioned for him to look. Stephen just shook his head. He wanted to plead with her, that he would explain later if they just moved, but her brow furrowed. No, he wasn’t getting out of this. And as if just to prove her seriousness, she raised her hand and held it inches away from Stephen’s shoulder, ready to grab him if necessary.

“Stephen! Is that you?”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Stephen muttered under his breath, wanting to just melt into the ground while there was still a chance to maintain a sliver of his dignity to Tao. But that had already passed, if just by how Tao stepped past him to meet Tony halfway.

“You know Stephen?” she asked, and Stephen could _feel_ the innocence in her voice. Finally, Stephen admitted defeat and turned to look back.

Tony stood in the center of the alley, still holding that battery. Well, of course he was holding it, being his lifeline and all. It had just been the first time Stephen had seen it outside the group. It could have been for show for all he knew, but he was proven wrong. His sunglasses were sat on the top of his head, eyes wide and mouth dropped. It looked like he was seconds away from charging towards Stephen had it not been for Tao’s question.

“I, uh, yes? We met back at-” Tony cut himself off, like he only just remembered one of the basic rules of the group. His face flushed, and he stammered to come up with a suitable lie.

“He’s in my group,” Stephen sighed, finally taking the heavy steps to stand back beside Tao. “This is Tony. As you can see, he’s attached to a car battery.”

“I noticed.”

“Shit, I didn’t-” Tony started again, his eyes flicking between the two of them. He raised one hand to point at Stephen, then moved to Tao, then back to Stephen. “Wait, are you, like, you didn’t say you were, unless you’re not, then she’d be-”

Stephen raised one eyebrow. Alright, he was willing to watch this as repayment for the last session. The mighty Tony Stark was a babbling idiot when it came to women, he guessed. Or it could just be Tao.

“Well, like, I can see where you get the height, but-”

“So you know Stephen,” Tao jerked the conversation, if only to prolong the mystery in Tony’s mind. Her calm face showed no hint towards any of the possibilities that had to be running rampant within him. “Has he been behaving?”

“Oh God, Tao, please,” Stephen groaned quietly.

“Uh, we can’t really talk about that stuff,” Tony finally formed the sentence, his cheeks still bright red but recovering. “Rules and all.”

“And now you suddenly follow the rules,” Stephen scoffed back, too aware that the only reason he had this courage was because Tao was standing next to him. Had she not been here, Stephen would have already been halfway back to the hospital.

Tony shuffled on his feet, dropping his other hand to the battery. “I just wanted to apologize for that. I mean, I hadn’t known, but I should have, I just didn’t think-”

“What exactly did you do?” Tao hummed to Tony under her breath, glancing back at Stephen from the corner of his eye.

It was only then that Stephen realized how petty this all looked. Tony had to beg for forgiveness because he gave Stephen a little pat on the shoulder, and Stephen overreacted. That was exactly how this looked. But… Stephen’s hand subconsciously pressed against his right shoulder, remembering that burn that never felt like it truly went away. The hand leaving a perfect imprint behind. Burning. Tony wouldn’t know what that felt like. It was obvious he didn’t.

“You touched him.”

Tao’s voice was precise and quiet, and Tony jerked. “Y-yes, ma’am,” he whined, a sound that Stephen wished he had the ability to record and playback on an endless loop. “We were just talking, I didn’t think about it, it just happened, and I’m so sorry-”

“So you’ve asked for forgiveness.” Tao looked back at Stephen now, her emerald eyes once again pinning Stephen. She nodded her head towards Tony. “Forgive him.”

 _“Why?”_ Stephen burst out, throwing his left hand out in Tony’s direction. “I had an attack in the middle of the entire session! You know _exactly_ why-”

“Forgive him. He has realized his mistake and wishes for your forgiveness. If he wasn’t sorrowful, he wouldn’t have risked humiliation.”

“Yes!” Tony suddenly yelped, waving his own hand frantically at Tao. “What she said! I-”

“Hush, it’s not your turn to speak.”

God, any other time in the world and Stephen would have been out of his mind with laughter, flat on the ground unable to breathe. But instead, Stephen just wanted once again to melt back into the ground. Here they were, fully grown adults in the middle of a demolished city where people were scraping to get by… and he was being scolded like a child.

Tao waited patiently, her fingers starting to toy with the red scarf around her neck. She never dropped her gaze from Stephen, knowing full well that she would get her way by the end. And so she did.

Stephen let out a long sigh. “Okay. It’s okay.”

“No, that means he will do it again and expect it to be ‘okay.’ You forgive him, but you are not allowing him to do it again.” Stephen could have sworn that was echoed back from his own mother. Tony whined about not doing it again, but he was ignored. “Go on.”

“I forgive you, Tony,” Stephen finally said, making sure that it was with enough effort since he knew full well that Tao would only make him repeat it if she wasn’t appeased. Stephen tried to ignore the look of relief that crossed Tony’s face, or the way his shoulders sagged like the burden had been lifted.

“Thanks. Uh, Tao was it?” Tony asked, only for his brow to furrow. “Did I hear that wrong? Is it short for something? I’ve never heard of-”

“The Ancient One,” Stephen finished, having gone through this conversation hundreds of times before. He understood that Tao liked to keep her past shrouded in mystery, but to use such an odd name just created more trouble than it was worth. “You can believe in Nebraska, but you can’t believe in Tao.”

“Hey, I know where Nebraska is at least!”

Tao let out a chirp of a laugh, turning her back on them to gather up the batteries. Stephen couldn’t hold back his relief, knowing that they would be leaving soon enough. It was a long walk, and Stephen wasn’t looking forward to carrying the batteries as well. “It was very lovely meeting you, Mr. Stark.”

No it wasn’t, Stephen thought but managed to hold the words back. The less he said now, the better, and the faster they could leave. But as Tao handed over the ration cards, something occurred to him. And judging by the confusion masking over Tony’s expression, he knew the same.

“I didn’t… I never told you my-”

“You didn’t have to,” Tao calmly said, opening up the bag over Stephen’s shoulder and depositing the batteries inside. “Is it forward of me to allow Stephen to keep me informed on the both of you?”

“I… I guess not, uh,” Tony trailed off one more time. His gaze kept flicking between Stephen and Tao, and if judging solely on the many experiences with Tao, he was a bit disturbed.

With her goal accomplished, Tao just nodded to Tony and walked back out of the alley. She melted back into the crowd, with only the yellow hood giving away her presence at all. Stephen swallowed his humiliation as best as he could and followed, only to be stopped by Tony’s soft whisper. “Dude, your mom is scary.”

“I’m not his mother, child. I would have raised him much better.”

Tony flushed bright red as Tao called out over the crowd, and so began his stammering that he hadn’t intended to offend her, that she didn’t look that old, but Stephen just nudged his way into the crowd. The more space he put between himself and Tony, the better. If just because Tao would have that much more fuel for her ever growing catalogue of Stephen.

As soon as they exited the crowded market, Stephen took in the first breath of relief of the day. All things considering, it could have gone worse. And it wasn’t all that hard to forgive Tony, anyway, if just because Tony’s emotions seemed so raw. Like he really expected Stephen to never forgive him for one mistake.

It was so different from the Tony he had seen at the sessions. This one was just so… vulnerable. Perhaps there was something under that rough exterior, after all. Stephen shook his head, pulling his focus to the hospital coming into sight. No, there were more important things to focus on. He couldn’t waste his time with a man with a battery strapped to his chest.


	5. Pencils and Pity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third session begins, and Stephen has difficulty finding his focus. The moment he does, though, it's for when the world wants to taunt him again. So he drifts back out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For added immersion, listen to these ambience tracks as you read:  
> Yume Nikki - Barracks Settlement - https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=TnyCap2smms&feature=share  
> Yume NIkki - Martian Underground - https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=7LX4a7mprjY&feature=share

“This is the third time this week.”

“If they are in need, then I will help them.”

Stephen leaned his shoulders back against the wall and watched Tao pack away some of the supplies into a box. Two blankets, two jackets, cans of food, and even a teddy bear. It wouldn’t be quite as bad if the hospital didn’t still struggle in keeping everyone clothed and fed. “Orphaned children get extra ration cards by default,” he reminded softly, well aware that Tao would not meet his gaze.

“Sharing ration cards amongst siblings and parents can be difficult. We will not turn people away in need of help.” Tao’s focus remained strictly on the box. She would only glance up to look at the doorway, where the two civilians stood on the other side.

A kid who had to be maybe five at oldest, and a teenager. Both boys. This was far from the first time they had approached the hospital in need of help, but it was coming more and more frequent. It was to the point that they had given the kids more supplies than themselves.

Ever since the ‘incident,’ not only had all the supplies been moved to the nurses’ quarters, but they had to cut back on what they gave freely. It would be different if they offered any ration cards as payment, but here Tao was, just giving it away. Children seemed to be her weakness, one that these two were using far too well. Every time they came, Tao would immediately drop whatever she was doing to assist. The first few times, Stephen looked past. Of course she would want to help children, the innocents. But there was just something… not right.

He felt like he recognized them. With his memory, he should be able to pinpoint exactly who they were, yet… It was foggy. It only made him that much more on edge.

“You have your meeting tonight, anyway. Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

“Don’t use that on me, we have to talk about this.” Stephen ran his fingers through his hair, brushing it back the best he could. He hated having to be the bad guy to Tao. Anyone else, he could do it without difficulty. But Tao had such a strong moral code, such strong will…

“This has to be the last time. There’s an orphanage in the Central District. Next time they come, I’m taking them there. We have far too many people in the hospital, people who _need_ our help. Sick people, wounded people. We can’t shelter everyone.”

Tao didn’t reply, and Stephen didn’t expect her to. Very rarely was Tao ever caught in a corner, and even rarer was it by Stephen. He let out a bitter sigh. This was just not Stephen’s day. Or even his week, for that matter.

Even looking past the incident at the marketplace, there had been a cough starting to go around the hospital. While it wasn’t dangerous yet, there were too many elderly people and young children that may be infected. With so little food still and health so poor, even coughs could turn into something much more dangerous. Thankfully, none of the doctors were sick. Yet.

One of the only bright sides were that some of the people injured at the West District shooting were released and going home. They also unfortunately lost another of the victims as well. Even looking past the loss of life, it was a loss of supplies that could have been used on someone with a better chance to live. It was something Stephen had quietly brought up to Tao, but once again, she had no answer for him.

Stephen reached down into his pocket and took out the watch, checking the time. He needed to start walking if he wanted to get to the meeting on time. After last week, though, Stephen honestly wanted to never go back. He had already embarrassed himself past recovery. But maybe he would give it one more shot.

One more meeting, then Stephen would decide if the support group was worth the time lost at the hospital.

“Give Mr. Stark my best,” Tao hummed, scooping up the box into her arms. Stephen nudged the door open with his foot, almost bumping into the two children. They skittered back, but he caught them looking inside. The older boy, especially. They had never given Stephen their names, if just because they were always in such a rush for their items and to leave again. It was suspicious, but… they were still children.

“Thank you so much, ma’am,” the younger boy chirped, a grin across his face as he tried to take hold of the box. “We’ll pay you back one day, we promise.” The older one took the box instead, muttering his thanks as well. He was the quiet one. Sandy blond hair, nearly platinum when clean, and dark eyes, while the younger one was a brunette with the same shade of eye color.

Without looking back to Stephen, Tao walked with the two to the entrance. The younger boy was chattering on, the older still silent. All Stephen hoped was that Tao knew what she was doing with these two. He grumbled under his breath before grabbing at a worn jacket. He slid his bandaged arm into the sleeve carefully, then threw the rest over his shoulders. It may rain tonight, and Tao would skin him if he let his wound and bandages get dirty, or just give him a good tongue lashing. Stephen wasn’t really sure which was worse.

* * *

“Free Coffee Guy!”

Stephen stopped and closed his eyes, then counted to ten. This was the exact opposite of how he wanted to spend tonight. All he wanted was a quiet night, maybe be able to pay attention to whatever activities would happen, but instead he had Tony. Since he had been forgiven, Tony probably thought that was an upgrade to friendship, when Stephen wanted anything but.

He just wanted to get through these sessions with as little damage as possible.

Stephen picked up the coffee the same the last two times, and he deposited it at Tony’s feet.

“Are you never going to give me coffee like a normal person?”

“No,” Stephen grunted, sinking down into his chair. He barely passed his glance to Tony, just long enough to see him gulp down the coffee like it was the first liquid he had in weeks. The battery in his arms had been replaced with another, perhaps the purpose of his market visit. He took a couple seconds to study the battery, the long wires that slipped under his shirt. Tony hadn’t yet gone into detail to why he had the battery in the first place, but whatever the reason, it was his lifeline. He always had an arm around it to protect it, always carried it like a newborn, and he had yet to see it detached.

“You get used to his energy,” Bruce chuckled, his coffee still in his hand that Tony was already eyeing. “He’s ‘energized’ constantly.”

“Fucking rude,” Tony snorted, the grin on his face giving no ill will. “I’ll make you carry this heavy ass thing dawn to dusk, see how you like it.”

Stephen leaned his head into his left hand, holding back a sigh. This just wasn’t going to be his night.

The session started a few minutes later, and the new activity went into effect; name one improvement in the week and how it would lead them to progressing further.

Tony was the first to speak, he always was. “I got Doc to forgive me, and I met his mom.”

“She is not-” Stephen bit down on his tongue, knowing that fighting against it would only drag it out further.

“Actually,” Tony continued, his smile a little softer, “it was the first time I got to hang out with anyone for a while, outside my shitty apartment. I’m trying to get out more. Even if I gotta lug around this shitty thing.” Tony lifted up the battery, pretending to strain under its weight. “So, yeah. I’ll try going out a bit more now that shit’s settled down.”

A rumble of praise filtered through the group, and Stephen winced at how pleased Tony was. Something as humiliating as that exchange had… somehow made Tony happy. How that worked out was beyond him. Here he thought that admitting he was wrong and begging for forgiveness would be the last thing Tony would be willing to admit.

And Tony even called him Doc. So he was listening, after all. Odd.

“And you, Stephen?” Fury asked, his interest peaked. “I assume that if any rules were broken, it was with permission from yourself.”

Technically, it was Tao’s permission to break the rules. Stephen didn’t want to talk about her, though. She wasn’t the reason why he needed these sessions. “It went over well enough. Nothing was broken. No one died. I would mark that a success.”

Another rumble, this time of laughter. It managed to make Stephen smirk. Even when he had been the worst participant in these sessions, there was something to seeing the same people in this tiny room that was beginning to feel… comfortable. Perhaps because no one had yet accused him of being practically worthless without his hand as a doctor, or just a nuisance with his problems.

They all had problems, Stephen realized. Some were a bit more visible than others.

The circle continued, and more people were speaking on their own and not forced. There were still the shy ones, and surprisingly, one of those was Thor. For such a large man with a booming presence, he was hesitant to speak at all. Stephen wondered what could have caused such a change.

“I… went to visit my brother. It was quite pleasant.”

That was all he said, and apparently all that needed to be said as the rumble of approval came one more time for him. Stephen frowned. He remembered Thor speaking of his brother and his snake, but that was it. Was there something he was missing? Then Tony tapped the arm of Stephen’s chair.

“You were kinda, uh, out at the time,” Tony breathed, leaning in close to not make much of a scene. No one was looking at them, anyway. “Thor’s brother, Loki, was in the war way at the beginning. Died in his first battle. That’s about all I know.”

Fair enough. Stephen didn’t recognize the name within his own patients, at least. He wasn’t the one who had failed Thor’s brother. It just so happened that he failed many others. Many he only had the chance to offer the smallest of condolences before rushing to another patient. Even more just went nameless. Another human victim to the war they did not start.

The number of patients he lost that he never so much as known their names was worrying. If he thought long enough, Stephen could easily put a number to it. That would be a waste of time, though. In that time, Stephen could just… take care of patients.

Oh wait, no he can’t. Because of his arm. He could count all day long if he wanted to. Count how many stitches he’d stitched, the bandages he used, how many times he stared into the eyes of the dead and thought that if he had one more second, one more chance, he could have saved them.

“Doc!”

Stephen jerked, snapping his head to his right where the voice came from. Tony was just staring at him, head tilted. He huffed. It looked like he got his upgrade from Free Coffee Guy, after all. At least Doc wasn’t humiliating. For now. He was sure Tony would find a way.

“You zone out a ton, don’t you?” Tony quipped, stretching in his seat. “First part is over, we all told our progress and shit. Fury’s moving on, and he told us to get some pencils. I felt like being nice and got you one.”

Pencils? A shiver went through Stephen’s body, and he felt his blood run cold. Dammit, why so early? Here Stephen had been hoping to bypass whatever stupid writing assignments they had for a few more weeks. But no, Tony had to drag him into it. Maybe he would reconsider the whole ‘forgiveness’ thing.

Tony had already taken out the pencil and held it out, making sure to hold it at the very end to give Stephen the full length of the pencil to grab. That was something, at the very least. Stephen stared at the pencil and felt his right hand twitch at this side with the instinct to grab it. At this point, Stephen wasn’t sure if it was possible to even hold it in that hand, and he wouldn’t try it in front of others.

Though the moment he reached out to grab hold, Tony swiped it away and stretched out, dropping the pencil right by Stephen’s feet. “There,” Tony chirped, sitting up straight and grinning.

Stephen felt one of his eyes twitch, but he only grumbled. It was fair enough, it was exactly how he gave Tony his coffee. His _free_ coffee. In all actuality, it was a little easier than reaching with his left arm, not that he would say aloud. He scooped it up with his left hand, though immediately had to fiddle to hold it right. He could do this, he told himself.

Now if only Stephen could sound at all confident in his own encouragement.

After some trial and error, Stephen gained a suitable grip on the pencil and turned back to Tony. Both Bruce and Thor were starting to pull their chairs over, as the others had broken off into groups of four. Which meant he was still in Tony’s group. It was just his lucky day.

Thor passed out the papers and a piece of cardboard, since there were no actual tables to write at. It already was a pain to balance the cardboard on his lap, but he managed to hook his right arm around the edge to keep it from sliding off. Though as he set down the paper, he winced.

That was a lot of blank lines. No boxes to check, nothing to circle. Just writing.

He skimmed through the explanation at the top, then squinted. This was ridiculous.

“You kinda zoned out again, this is an imagination exercise.” Tony reached over, slowly this time, and tapped his pencil to the top of the page where a poorly copied shape was printed on it. “This is a candy we’re going to name and promote, give it a flavor, talk about if it’s chewy, spicy, whatever. We all got the same candy. So we’re like a pitch group selling this candy to everyone else and ours has to beat out the others and sell it to our client, Fury.”

Every word that came out of Tony’s mouth only made Stephen’s shoulders sag more and more. Wasn’t therapy or support groups supposed to be for getting into the dark depravities of the human psyche? To drag them out into the open and understand their links and roots, not to sit and play kindergarten games? It was like doing neurosurgery with a plastic shovel. All he was going to get would be a headache from smacking the shovel against the skull.

“I know it sounds stupid, but it’ll be fun. Think of it like you’re with all your doctor buddies and you’re going to sell your new operation method or whatever."

“Are we naming it after ourselves?” Stephen scoffed, running the tip of the pencil across the black and white image. It looked like a generic candy, a round one with a striped wrapper. One that he may have seen a million times. How were you to be creative with something so generic?

“Starknut?” Tony offered, his grin stretching wider.

“Sounds more like a type of cookie, if I may be honest,” Bruce hummed, already starting to write on the paper. Thor was still silent, but his pencil moved wildly. Glancing back over to Tony, Stephen just stared. Tony currently had his piece of paper draped across the side of his battery, doodling across the candy image.

“What if we made it a cookie?” Tony prompted again.

“That’s not the exercise,” Bruce sighed, shaking his head.

“What if we made it larger? Like it is a candy shell around something much sweeter inside,” Thor offered, looking up from his work.

The conversation was already taking off between the three of them, while Stephen just studied the image on the page. There were prompts on the page, detailing texture and taste with blanks beside them. Stephen rested the side of his hand against the paper, but even trying to press the tip of the pencil to the page, he had already taken up half the space with only his hand. The piece of cardboard just wasn’t large enough to hold both the paper and his hand on the same surface.

For a second, Stephen’s eyes darted down to his right hand. The bandages were wrapped around the entire hand, rather than around each finger. It made the shape of a mitten than an actual hand. He flexed his fingers against the restraints, but they were much too tight. He would have to undo the entire bandage to free his hand, and even if he did, holding the pencil may be too much of an effort.

“Psst,” the noise caught Stephen’s attention, making him glance up to Tony again.

Tony was still keeping his focus on the others, glancing at their pages, yet held out his piece of cardboard. He dropped it at Stephen’s feet and continued as if nothing had happened. It was quick and had not drawn the attention of the others.

Stephen shouldn’t have felt as relieved as he did, since honestly it was just a piece of cardboard, but as soon as he picked it up and nudged it across his lap, his hand fell into place beside the page. He would ask later why Tony thought he had to look out for Stephen. Right now, he just needed to start working.

He pressed the tip of the pencil to the page and started out slow. One letter at a time. As a surgeon, he would always have his hands steady and precise, but somehow, this was different. He furrowed his brow, realizing that this may be the first time he actively needed to write since the incident. Adjusting his grip on the pencil, Stephen sucked in a deep breath and kept going.

All he wrote was ‘S H E’ for shell, and it already bled through the lines being at least twice the size he had intended. He had to physically drag his hand with the motion of the letter, like a toddler with a crayon. Two ‘L’s later, and his hand was starting to cramp in the awkward position. Halfway through chocolate, the pencil slipped out of his hand as he was adjusting the position and rattled on the floor.

A spike of anger flooded through him at the sound, and he glared at the stick for disobeying his will. A few heads perked up, but looked away when they saw what had happened. Because they saw that it was just crippled Stephen, the worthless doctor who can’t even hold a pencil. And one who apparently had to be babied, as Tony hissed for his attention again.

“What?” Stephen snapped quietly, barely containing his voice. His hand fisted around the pencil, trying a more primitive method of writing instead and just dragging his hand even more than before.

“I can just write down whatever you want to say. Doesn’t have to be a big deal,” Tony whispered, but Stephen didn’t bother to look up. He was still struggling with the other half of ‘chocolate.’ “It’s more for Fury to make sure we aren’t slacking off and having everyone else do the heavy work.”

“I’m not _slacking,”_ Stephen muttered back, almost burning holes into the paper with his glare. “Just out of practice. There’s a _difference.”_

“I didn’t say you were slacking, just looks like you could, I don’t know, use some help. It’s not a big deal.”

“I don’t-”

The paper ripped beneath Stephen’s pencil, puncturing straight through the cardboard on the other side. Stephen just stared at the page, at his pencil, and released it to sit in its new home. A mess of emotions tangled inside him at the sight of that pencil, that stupid pencil. Couldn’t even hold a pencil. Top of his peers neurosurgeon Stephen Strange now couldn’t even hold a _fucking pencil._

The bitterness clouded his mind, and once again, his mind dragged him back under. The great Stephen Strange, the one who had graduated top of his class, had his pick of hospitals all begging to borrow his skills, brought back so many people from the brink of death, now was sitting here in a decrepit, abandoned building surrounded by the wounded and broken minds, staring at the pencil he couldn’t hold. The magnificent Doctor Stephen Strange. _Useless_.

Useless, unneeded, a burden, worn through, incompetent, no use, a _waste-_

_“Stephen!”_

He returned to the world in a snap, blinking at the scene around him. He wasn’t staring at the pencil anymore, instead staring at Tony. The other man had both hands gripping the battery tightly, anchoring himself down against the temptation to reach out. He was visibly frustrated, and Stephen didn’t have to wonder hard to know that the feeling was mutual. When Tony saw that he had Stephen’s attention, he let out a hard breath that almost deflated him.

“You keep zoning out. Let’s go outside. Get some air. Okay?”

Stephen didn’t know why, but he nodded. Anything to get out of this space. Out of his nightmare of a head. He pushed the cardboard off of his lap and no longer cared for the sound it made. He had apparently made a big enough scene as it was. Tony followed a little slower, having to scoop up his battery. While Tony made a dart to grab one of the last cups of absolutely cold coffee, Stephen didn’t hesitate to walk out the doors, grabbing his jacket on the way out.

The night air was chilly, and judging by the drops on the ground, it had been raining. It was a miracle that the roof hadn’t started leaking at any of the sessions. Stephen pulled the jacket sleeve over his bandaged arm first, then pulled the rest over his shoulders.

The rain had kicked up a little bit of dust, as if it dust wasn’t enough of a problem by itself. With every building that was rotting away and in disrepair, it only added to the debris in the air. There had been days during the war that the destruction would leave a haze across entire blocks for days, unable to settle because of passing troops or machinery. To the world’s credit, ever since it was announced that the war was over almost a month ago, it had been quiet. Any battles breaking out were by civilians fighting over scraps like deranged animals.

Tony had to juggle the battery in his arms before he flung his jacket over the top of it to keep any water off. Stephen barely saw him out of the corner of his eye, but could still see the distaste of drinking the cold coffee. He still drank it, though. To the last drop. He crushed the cup in his palm and tossed it to a pile of rubble across the street. It landed barely three feet in front of them.

“Well, damn,” Tony muttered to himself, his words coming out in soft white breaths. “Here I thought carrying this shitty thing around would beef my arms up a bit. ‘Parently not.”

“Different muscles,” Stephen replied, still blankly staring out to the street. There were overturned cars in the center, the windows broken out and grass starting to poke out in the cracks of the concrete. There were bullet holes in the metal, where someone may have used the car as cover during battle. Maybe they escaped. Maybe they died. Maybe their blood had been washed away years ago, feeding the grass beneath.

Further down the street, there were huddled figures against walls. It was still just bearable enough to sleep outside, but not without thick blankets. Every time Stephen saw someone sleeping in the street, he would wonder if they were dead. Maybe they wished to be dead. To not wake up the next morning may be a blessing to those people who had already lost everything. Sometimes he was right, when he would realize a shape had not moved for days. But usually the bodies were stripped of whatever belongings they had by scavengers, leaving them with barely the clothes on their backs. Sometimes not even that.

Humiliated even in death. Their lives were only worth whatever scavengers were willing to take.

“Are you okay?”

Stephen almost laughed. It bubbled up in his chest, but he swallowed it back down. “No, I’m not. And I’d be very surprised if anyone was at this point.”

“I get that, but I mean, do you need help? Just in general.”

Stephen furrowed his brow before turning around. Tony was sitting on the steps of the building, the car battery draped across his lap and he was tugging at his fingerless gloves. Stephen wondered if they were designed fingerless or if they had simply worn through. “What help could you possibly give me?”

Tony shrugged, still staring at his gloves. He played with a thread, tugging at it to see where it led before tucking it back into the glove. “You keep shutting down on us. I don’t want to turn around and see you shut down for good.”

“Because then what, you’ll lose your little pet project? Your _charity case?_ ” Stephen spat, that coil of rage starting to unfurl in his chest again. “Don’t act like I don’t see what you’re doing. You go to these meetings to find a little project for yourself, don’t you?”

Tony blinked up, his eyes wide in what was a very good attempt at shock and hurt. “I go to these meetings because it gets me out of the house. I don’t have anything else, really. I just tinker with stuff the rest of the time.”

“So you’re tinkering with me.”

“No, that’s not what I meant-”

“Oh, I get what you meant.” Stephen closed the gap between them, scowling down at Tony. “Poor Stephen Strange and his fucked up life, his fucked up arm, and his fucked up head. Let’s all point and laugh, watch him struggle, let’s give him a _pencil_ and see what happens! I don’t need your fucking pity, and I don’t need your help!”

Stephen turned away before he could dare see Tony’s expression, sucking in the air through his teeth even as it chilled his bones. “I’m not getting any _better_ here, I’m getting _worse!”_

“It’s not going to get better right away, like when you put a cast on someone’s broken bone, right? You have to wait-”

“But you don’t _rebreak_ and _rebreak_ over and over again until it’s nothing but dust and _then_ glue it all back together! The first thing you do is stop the bleeding. But I’m still _bleeding!”_

The word echoed through the open street, off buildings and cars into the night air. Stephen took in another breath, and let it out. Took another in, and let it back out. He wasn’t someone’s toy to poke and prod inside his mind. He wasn’t a cadaver for a student project.

“I’m not coming back. I’m getting worse and I can’t afford to lose myself when I have an entire hospital to look after.”

As if Stephen already hadn’t. He could feel his mind slipping away, every time he stared at his arm, every time he saw the blood dripping out of wounds, every time he smelled the smoke, saw the fire… He needed help, but not from here. Maybe there wasn’t help for him at all. But the least Stephen can do is slow the bleeding.

“...This is the part where you leave,” Stephen muttered, knowing full well that Tony hadn’t moved. He wrapped his left arm around the other, pulling it closer to his side. The cold was biting at his bones, and he could feel the prickles through his right arm. It only chilled him further, leaving him shivering under the weight of the cold and his own words.

“At least stay until the end of today.”

Tony’s words were so quiet, Stephen first thought he imagined them. But then he glanced over his shoulder, to the man still sitting on those steps and looking up at him with those whiskey eyes. They were soft, so open that he could have lost himself within them. An ache throbbed within him, but it numbed soon enough.

He nodded, because Stephen didn’t know what else he could possibly do. But his body moved without his mind having to order it, walking back to the stone steps and sitting down a couple feet away. It only let the coldness work deeper into his body, the thoughts as still and quiet as the dark sky above.

Stephen wondered when he last saw the stars. For once, he didn’t remember. It only made everything that much more lonely to stare into the never ending darkness, and having it reflect back on the world they lived in.

“Just so you know, I didn’t pity you.” Tony’s voice was still quiet, dull even. The energy that always traveled with him had been smothered. “I know what it’s like. And I wouldn’t do that to anyone, especially a friend.”

Silence was Tony’s answer, and silence was what he accepted. They sat and stared at the sky, at the debris, at the emptiness. Their breaths mixed together in the fog escaping their lips, drifting and vanishing into more emptiness.

“So, don’t think so low of me. Okay?”

It was a final plea, one that Stephen wasn’t sure how to answer or even if he should. Tony shifted up to his feet and Stephen let him, still staring out to the dark skies. Though as he waited for the door to open, all he found was more silence. Frowning, Stephen glanced over his shoulder, only to see Tony standing at the top of the steps, waiting.

“It’s too cold to be out here by yourself. Maybe I can get you one last cup of coffee before you go.”

There was something warm, something buried so deep that Stephen couldn’t begin to understand what it was, but the heaviness of his body was sucked away. He stood carefully, not wanting to put any weight on his bad arm, before he turned back to Tony.

Stephen was given the smallest smirk, but Tony turned back to the door and pulled it open. He paused and nodded to Stephen. “Docs first.”

That won a chuckle, the mist from his lips still disappearing as he walked inside, Tony shutting the door behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter may come with updated tags, so keep a look out! It'll be a big one.


	6. Fading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen thought getting away from the group would fix everything. He could go back to the way things were. But then he starts fading, with each spell growing longer and longer. The world is fading away, and one more piece slips away from his fingertips.

The skies didn’t open up until after the session. Stephen and Tony exchanged quiet good-byes, then parted ways. Stephen didn’t look back, but he could hear the hesitation in Tony’s steps. That’s when the rain decided to fall. In seconds, the jacket he had tucked around his body was soaked and dripping, but his wounded arm was safely tucked to his chest. He imagined the pulsing heat of the scars was his only heat source, the only reminder to life in his empty shell.

The walk was uneventful, mostly because Stephen barely remembered it. All he knew was the cold. The rain pounding down on his body. The taste of war on his tongue, stirred up by the winds and brought back to life by the water. He remembered checking his watch one time, but he barely had a glance at the time before the rain smeared the dust on the glass. So he just kept walking.

He pushed open the double doors to the hospital and took a quick look around him. It was quiet, thankfully. He recognized the same people all huddled up in their blankets, all trying to stay away from the broken windows. Rain was gusting inside, and Stephen reminded himself to try to find someone to board up the windows again. Someone had put used towels on the floor to try to soak up the rain water, others putting out buckets and containers to catch the water to boil later.

Water was still dripping down his face by the time he found his way up to the nurses’ room, pulling off his jacket and letting it fall off his shoulders just inside the doorway. The wet plop was louder than he intended, but he had no urge to care. All he cared about was to sink into the mattress and let sleep overtake him.

Stephen had barely sat down and started on his bandages when a weight sat down next to him. The mattress bowed under their combined weight, the hard springs creaking out complaints.

“Are you alright, Stephen?” Tao asked him quietly, but the voice muffled once it reached his ears. He just didn’t care to listen. Didn’t care to answer. His strength had already been bled out of him. Instead, he watched the bandages gather in a pile, taking note of any stains against the bleached white. There were still parts that would not heal properly. Constantly open and weeping. Just like the rest of him.

By the time the last bandage had unwound from his arm, Stephen found himself staring at the mass of scars. Ridges and valleys, tough like leather in parts and others still unbearably soft. He stared, and the images started flowing through his mind again.

Skin slipping off under the most careful of touches. Howls of pain muted down to gasps and whimpers. Row after row of people, their eyes blank as they stared at the ceiling, unable to move their body without unrelenting pain.

Then people started to die. Infections, blood poisoning, they all started to die.

It was then that Stephen had realized that the ones who died in the first few minutes were the luckiest. They had been spared and given only a glimpse of hell before it ended. For others, it never ended.

It still wasn’t ending.

He blinked, and his arm was halfway bound again. Tao’s fingers were careful as they wrapped up his arm, they always were. She had always been so careful for those she knew were about to die. She wouldn’t prolong agony. When they would beg for rest, she would give it. But she never gave Stephen the rest he had been begging for. Still wouldn’t. Just let him suffer.

If only Stephen hadn’t fought so hard to live.

Tao’s voice echoed through his head, even as he couldn’t distinguish words. Maybe he answered. Maybe he was silent. Stephen didn’t remember.

All he remembered was the blanket being pulled over his shoulders and letting his mind slip away one more time. A few hours of blissful sleep would come, then the nightmares would begin. An endless cycle. His eternal punishment for surviving.

* * *

“Fourteen bottles of peroxide.”

“Mhm.”

“Forty rolls of bandages.”

“Got it.”

“Eight packets of insulin.”

“Yeah.”

“A partridge in a pear tree.”

“Yeah.”

“Stephen?”

“Uh huh.”

“Stephen, are you listening?”

“Mmm.”

“What did I just ask you?”

“Yeah.”

The pencil was snatched out of Stephen’s hand, where he had been dragging the tip mindlessly over a blank sheet of paper. The inventory list had already slipped off the table and was sitting at his feet, and had been there for what could have been twenty minutes. 

All Stephen had been doing was staring at the dark line he had been creating over and over, then realized that he had torn through the paper and was carving into the wooden desk. Stephen blinked and stared at his left hand, the side nearly black with graphite.

“Stephen, can you tell me what you ate this morning?”

His brain was silent, and the sound he made certainly wasn’t a correct answer.

“When was your last meeting?”

A little bit of thought jumped up this time, eager with an answer. “Yesterday,” he mumbled, still entranced by the black streaks across the paper, desk and his hand.

“It’s been four days.”

“Oh.” His brain shut back down again, having been shunned with his false answer.

The abused piece of paper was pulled out from beneath his left hand, smearing the graphite across the rest of the page in one smooth brushstroke. In the back of his mind, it reminded him of… Well, he didn’t really know.

There was a soft pressure against his shoulder, but he didn’t move. The pressure turned into a shake, and still nothing. It was only when he felt Tao’s hand grabbed him by the cheeks and turned his head up that he dragged himself back into consciousness.

“Stephen, what’s happening? You’ve been in and out for days. Christine was talking to you this morning and you stopped mid-sentence and stood there for ten minutes. Wong had to physically put you down into a chair before you could pass out.” Stephen expected Tao’s voice to be sharp and antagonising, but it was just… quiet. As lost as he was, to be honest. So… really lost. Yeah.

Stephen blinked slow and his answer felt like it came at a snail’s pace. “Been distracted a bit.”

“A bit?” Tao deadpanned, matching his blank stare.

“Yeah.”

Tao let out a long sigh, her eyes fluttering closed. She ran her fingers across her temple like she was beating back a headache and barely winning. The seconds ticked by, Stephen couldn’t be bothered to count them, but she finally spoke again.

“Take the rest of the day off. Sleep. I can have Wong make you some tea to help you rest.”

“Okay.”

His primitive answer was accompanied with no movement. Stephen just stared, like he expected himself to be in bed from one moment to the next. It wouldn’t be the first time it magically happened, but with the more time that passed, the more disappointed he became. This wasn’t going to be one of those times. He was stuck in the present. Stephen didn’t like the present.

Something flashed across Tao’s face, but it was too quick for Stephen to catch. Or maybe he imagined it. Or maybe he didn’t.

Tao set her own inventory checklist onto the desk. Wait, that’s what they had been doing. Checking inventory. He remembered. He reached out and dragged her pages closer and started to match the numbers with the previous day’s. They had used a couple bottles of peroxide the day before (maybe it was the day before that). Someone had gotten an infection in their… leg? Arm? A place.

Stephen brushed through the papers where he sat in the middle of an office. It was just down the hall from the nurses’ room. That must be where Tao went. She wasn’t in the room again. But now there were voices down the hall. A male’s voice. He couldn’t quite put a name to the voice, it sounded like it was being muffled past a pillow. Fury? Wong? Tony? Where was he again?

He glanced up to take in the room again, still empty. Was it time to go to bed? Or to eat? Dinner? Stephen shoved his hand into his pocket and dragged out his watch. It had to be about ready for dinner…

No, it was a little past seven. Maybe. His watch may be broken or slow. It definitely couldn’t be seven… in the afternoon? Or maybe it was morning?

“Stephen, I have your tea.”

Wong, yes. Hospital. Tea. Tao wanted him to sleep.

Stephen blinked open his eyes again and stared at the mug in front of him. It was dark. He could feel the heat against his palm as he grabbed it. It didn’t smell right. He curled his lip at the liquid. Tony would rather have it.

Taking the mug, Stephen quietly leaned over in his chair and set it down to the one right next to him at his feet. Tony would like it.

But then the mug was picked back up, and put back on his desk. Tony didn’t want it.

“...Stephen, what are you doing?”

Not Tony. Wong. What was he doing here? Wong didn’t like coffee. Wong didn’t come to the meetings, only him and Tony and Thor and Bruce and… Who were the other people? Fury? Little Witch? Not Wong.

“I don’t drink the coffee,” Stephen muttered, nudging it with his knuckles back to Wong. “S’for Tony. Free Coffee Guy?”

“It’s… not coffee. It’s your tea. Strange, do I need to get Tao?”

“Strange… tea?”

Wong walked away. Then he stopped. “Stephen, tell me who Tony is.”

Odd question. Stephen could have sworn that he talked about Tony. Even more so, didn’t he meet him? They all met him, at the market? “He’s the battery guy. You met him at the market with me. He said you were my mom.”

“I… don’t go with you to the market. I never have.”

“Oh.” Stephen furrowed his brow, trying to claw at the memory in his foggy head. “Must have been Tao.”

Stephen went back to the papers on his desk, looking between the two pages. Which one was which? Was this yesterdays? Two days ago? Longer? Did he already check these? Maybe he checked these already. No, he _definitely_ checked these already. Maybe.

“I knew we were bound to lose a doctor one day, but I didn’t think it’d be you, Strange.”  
  
“But I’m right here.”

“Drink your tea.”

* * *

“He doesn’t have a temperature.”

Stephen cracked open his eyes, just enough to see the haze of shapes. Fingers ran through his hair and pushed it off of his forehead, brushing it far enough to press the back of their hand to his skin. It felt warm. It felt comforting. Stephen closed his eyes again.

“Are we sure it isn’t some infection? The toxins from the gas could have been dormant.”

“Even if that was true, we have no way of checking.”

“Then what do we do?”

Three voices, Wong, Tao and Christine. They were with him, somewhere in this room. Wherever he was, though, he was laying down. It was soft. He had blankets. He didn’t want to leave.

“Right now, nothing. We watch his temperature. Make sure he’s drinking and eating. If worse comes to worse, we will radio in assistance.”

That wasn’t good.

“He keeps talking about a ‘Lebowski,’ ‘Science Bro,’ and ‘Douchebag.’ Then he brings up a ‘Tony.’ I’ve never heard him talk like this before.”

Oh, the meeting. What time was the meeting? Tony would be upset if he didn’t get coffee. He wouldn’t take it. Kept giving it back. Was Tony mad at him?

Tao was silent. Maybe she left. Who knows. Stephen was tired.

“Do you know which ones you’re looking for? What did you say your mother had again? It may be better if she came here, we have doctors who would be able to help.”

No, Tao was back. There were other footsteps. Not just her. He just wanted to sleep. But he still cracked open his eyes just enough to stare across the room.

It was darker, now. Sun set. Was it the same day? Was it later? He didn’t know. All he did know was that there were three people in the room. Tao, and two others. Tao was wearing her yellow coat and he could just make out the red scarf poking out the edges. He squinted at them, trying to pull the shapes back together.

No, he knew them. The kids. The brothers. The younger one and the older one. The younger one was almost clinging to Tao, holding onto the sleeve of her coat. The other was standing back, hanging around by the door. He closed it with a small click.

“We are in need of insulin,” the older boy muttered, his voice so quiet that Stephen almost didn’t hear it. “Our father tried to find some before, but he never came back.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Tao replied, her voice becoming just as quiet. “How is your mother? Can she not travel here?”

“No, she’s too weak.”

How sad, Stephen thought. Losing a parent to war was hard enough. Watching the other slip away even harder. The kids had to be strong. Searching for help. They came to the right place, Tao would help them.

She always helped the orphans. Always brought them under her wing. The two had lost their parents and started coming to the hospital so often, if just for food or just human interaction. Losing their parents…

Losing their parents?

Sudden clarity burst through his mind like an aneurism. They were orphans. _Orphans._ Here to collect medicine for a mother they didn’t have.

His mind screamed at his body, at his limbs that still felt so heavy that they refused to move. Get up. Get _up._

“Did your father come here for medicine?”

“Yes he did.”

His father. Came here for medicine. He never made it back home.

“What was his name?”

Move, Stephen, move! Get up!

_“Kaecilius.”_

Stephen’s mind hung on the word for a second to long. When the name ripped through his memories, it sucked him down with it.

Kaecilius’ piercing dark eyes, his desperation staining the air, pleads turning into demands for insulin they couldn’t afford to trade away. A soldier who couldn’t afford to take no for an answer. The second Kaecilius pulled out the gun and aimed it at Tao, the entire memory turned bloodsoaked. Struggles and a fight to control the weapon, shots fired at nothing, shots fired at people, and then Stephen finally getting a hold of the gun.

It was an accident, he told himself.

It was either him or Stephen, the comforting lie insisted.

It had not been the first time Stephen had blood on his hands, but it was the first time he was the cause.

He could still see the pool of blood. Stephen’s hands pushed into the bleeding wound, scraping together pieces of Kaecilius’ skull to put it back together. Blood rushing through his fingers. Pulsing heat, staining, flooding, unending.

Blood soaking into yellow fabric. He couldn’t put enough pressure on the wound. His right arm gave out on him time and time again, blood splashing up his forearms, hot like fire. There’s voices, they’re all screaming. Maybe he’s screaming. Maybe there’s no sound at all and it’s all in his head. Maybe this is in his head. Because it can’t be happening again.

The form beneath his hands flicker as fast as a butterfly’s wings. There’s so much blood. And then there’s the fire. The blood sticking to him is burning. He can’t touch. It’s burning, he’s burning, everything is burning. The air in his lungs is stained with smoke and the smell of garlic and he can’t breathe.

Flickering and burning. Yellow turning into red. Red turning into fire. Red, so much red, endless red.

He doesn’t know what to do, so he screams. It’s soundless to his ears. All the noise is coming from his head. The crackling fire, the screams of agony being hushed by death, they echo inside him. And then he hears his own voice.

“Don’t leave me.”

Don’t leave me alone.

Don’t burn away.

Don’t go.

...Four bottles of peroxide, thirteen rolls of bandages, a handful of pills, a bag full of food and a taste of revenge. That is what her life was worth.

Four bottles of peroxide.

Pills. 

Six containers of canned meat.

Burning. 

Fire.

Rolls of bandages.

Revenge.

Blood.

_Tao._


	7. Scars and Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony knows that Stephen said he wasn't coming to the meetings anymore, but he still holds out hope. Maybe Stephen will change his mind. Maybe he will come back. But now he may wish he didn't see Stephen at all that day.

Tao likes Japanese fans, Tao likes rainy days, Tao is bleeding, Tao is in pain, there’s four bottles missing, six separate pools of blood, fourteen handprints, he can’t see, he can’t feel, but he knows, and there’s four bottles missing, someone took the bottles, someone took the bandages, the counts are wrong, the counts need to be fixed, the counts are wrong, Tao is in pain, Tao likes Japanese fans, Tao doesn’t like to burn, everything’s burning, there’s blood on the wall, there’s a knife on the floor, there’s blood in the hall, blood on his clothes, blood on her clothes, blood on their clothes, blood on blankets, they took blankets, four blankets, four bottles, fourteen pills, pills are needed, pills help the pain, pills help Tao, Tao needs to breathe, pills don’t help breathing, how can she breathe, there’s not enough air for breathing, she needs to breathe, he will help her breathe, breath of fresh air, breathing in smoke, breathing in garlic, the smell of garlic makes him vomit, the vomit looks like burned flesh, everything is burning again, everything is bleeding, everything is dying, everything is wrong, everything is right, no one is alive, there is nothing left, but there are bottles left, four bottles gone, they’re missing, things are missing, they’re still missing, they’ll never come back, they’re gone, they ran, he wants to run, but where can you run, nowhere is safe, nowhere is safe, everywhere has blood, blood is everywhere, burning is everywhere, everywhere is burning, flames are spinning, spinning faster, spinning harder, burns brighter, burns deeper, don’t let it touch you, don’t touch them, they will die, they will burn, you can’t help them, don’t give them water because they will die, let them die fast, take the gun, make it fast, through the head, through his head, he didn’t want to kill him, he didn’t want to kill, it just happened, things happen, everything happens for a reason, there is no reason, there is no meaning, there is no life, there is no Tao, there is no burning, there is no war, there is no death, there is no Stephen, there is nothing, there is everything, there are four bottles missing, there are fourteen handprints, there are burns, they keep burning, never stop burning, you die when you burn and you burn when you die, where to go when you burn, where to go when you’re hurt, you go somewhere safe, there’s somewhere safe, there’s always safe, go to safe, go to four walls, nothing leaves, four bottles, four walls, inside four walls, safe in the walls, go to the walls, go to the coffee, Tony likes coffee, Tony doesn’t like tea, Tony likes his coffee hot, Tony likes his coffee cold, Tony likes his coffee when Stephen gives him his coffee, give him the coffee, go back to the safe where nothing hurts and everyone’s okay and no one will die because it’s safe and nothing will leave and nothing will change and nothing and nothing and nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, go, go, time to go, go to the safe, go, go now.

* * *

When Tony told Fury that Stephen wouldn’t be coming back, Fury wasn’t surprised. To be honest, neither was Tony. Seeing Stephen the past few weeks felt like he was watching an animal being starved to death. At first it was just little things like his quietness, the way he stared, and his disinterest to what was going on around. Tony put that up to normal first session jitters. But then the next session came and Stephen shut down hard. Granted it was completely Tony’s fault, but he just… shut down.

The third session was the worst because there was no reason. There was no trigger that Tony could see to make him shut down like that. He just faded in and out, sometimes with enough awareness to answer questions but other times just completely gone.

Tony adjusted his arms around the battery, heaving it up onto his shoulder. It felt like it got heavier with each day that passed. Maybe when civilization became a little less shit, he could upgrade to some solar panels. Then again, with how the clouds had not broken for a single day all week, that could spell his own doom. The last thing Tony wanted to die from was a lack of battery. That wouldn’t look good on his tombstone or in the newspapers.

_Genius Tony Stark dies because the sun wouldn’t come out._

He snorted under his breath. Maybe newspapers would come back soon enough. It was hard to find out news on the world when the world was ruined, and his TV’s signal was so flimsy that he may as well be staring at a brick wall for his news. Maybe some places had been blown off the map. Maybe the rest of the world was back to normal already and they were the sluggish ones. If that was the case, then Tony could get the ball rolling a little sooner. That is, if he had access to a damn shop and not the tiny toolbox he managed to scrounge up. 

That would be his next project, getting a shop up and running again. He’d see if he can sweet-talk his way into another apartment room from the big guys upstairs, for the greater good of the world and all that shit. Only then would he find something to do and peak his interest. At least, other than putting back together every little electronic device he came across. You can only fix however many toasters before it started to get dull and you start pondering if installing an AI into a tiny toaster was a possible feat.

In the distance, he saw the familiar scene of people outside the meeting building. Well, mostly familiar. It seemed like almost everyone was outside. Some were smoking, others were just lingering. Perhaps the building was still locked up because Fury wasn’t here yet? He quickened his pace, as much as you can while lugging around a battery. Fury wasn’t in the group, but there were about six people outside. He couldn’t be late, right?

“Hey, Lebowski!”

Thor, who had been standing with Bruce, jerked his head up to attention. But his expression was pale, uncertain. Thor seemed like the guy who would be laid back with most inconveniences, but there had to be something going on to have him worried. “Man of Iron,” he murmured, nodding his head in greeting. His deep voice was hushed, like they could be overheard.

“What’s going on? Fury got tired of us already?” Tony tried to joke, but as he finally merged in with the group, he could feel the anxiety hovering in the air. There was _definitely_ something wrong, he could feel it crawling underneath his skin like a thousand bugs.

Thor shook his head, glancing to Bruce for some, if any, assistance. Bruce cleared his throat and motioned for Tony to come closer. “There’s… Well, we don’t know what’s going on, but Fury thinks you might be able to help.”

Oh, so perhaps something was broken. A leaking pipe? Gas leak, even? Strange that there wasn’t a single other person in this group that would know how to fix something. Maybe Fury just needed something charged. With a shrug, he followed Bruce past the others and to the front doors. One was open just a crack. “What’s broken?”

Bruce flinched. “I…” Trailing off, Bruce just shook his head. “It’s out of my expertise. When Fury got here, he…” More silence.

“You’re starting to freak me out a bit, Brucie,” Tony muttered, his humor starting to rot away. Whatever Bruce had seen, it had shaken him. He was even more pale than Thor, and he couldn’t even meet his eyes. Bruce just stared at the building, his face as blank as he physically could make it.

“It’s not pretty, and it’ll shock you.”

“Was that an electricity pun?”

“No.”

Damn. Looks like it was even more serious than he thought. Tony sucked in a deep breath and gave himself a quick shake. Well, might as well get started. The sooner he saw what was going on, the sooner they could get back to work, and the sooner Tony could start drinking coffee. Only one cup, though. Stephen wasn’t here to give him any extra cups.

Bruce pushed the door open for him, but stayed behind Tony. The first sight he got was the usual table that held the coffee and the name tags. There were only three cups left on the table, which was odd because no one outside had their cup of coffee. Perhaps Fury was still making the coffee. He shrugged to himself and kept walking. The circle of chairs was undisturbed, and there were a few people standing inside.

One was Wanda, or as he liked to call her, Little Witch. She was standing off to the side close to the table, staring into the room. He opened his mouth to greet her, only to pause. Fury was inside. He was standing near Tony’s seat. He took a moment to swallow down the anxiety starting to race through his heart. No, everything had to be fine. Maybe the roof had fallen through and something had leaked. Maybe it was nothing at all. Maybe Fury was just going to tell him to get out of his group because he was having too much fun messing around.

That’s when he saw him.

“Doc! Hey, you-” 

Made it. Those were the words that died in his throat. He stopped dead and stared, his mouth still hanging open.

Stephen was sitting in his usual chair, but that was where the normality ended. Because Stephen… Stephen was covered in blood.

The sight burned itself into Tony’s mind. There was blood up and down Stephen’s arms, on his face, on his clothing… For the most part, it looked dry, crusting on his skin. At least a day old. But on his hands, it was still bright red and wet. The same hands were twitching around something, twisting into something soft and red.

When Tony dared to get closer, that was when he saw what Stephen was holding. Some red fabric. A shirt? No, it was thicker than that. A scarf? Tony swallowed. His eyes focused on the scarf in his hands, how Stephen’s hands were shaking around it, but as his hands moved, Tony caught small glimpses of Stephen’s right hand.

For every time Tony had seen Stephen, his right arm had been completely bandaged up. He had never seen the slightest sliver of skin peeking through, but now, the bandages were slipping off. Some strips were barely hanging on, like a few trapped between his palm and the scarf, but the rest were dangling and dragging onto the ground. The familiar white had been completely stained red, yet the blood didn’t come from Stephen.

Could have fooled Tony, though. Because his arm… his hand… It looked…

Mangled.

His eyes started at Stephen’s shoulder, where he had touched him by mistake. The skin was red and angry, with what looked like holes carved into the flesh. It was a burn that made his skin look like dry putty that had been abandoned before it had the chance to be smoothed back out. But as he trailed down the arm, the red stretched down just past his elbow before it started to bleach. At that same time, the mass shrank down, like it had been peeled away. There were more holes, and coupled with the sickly white skin, it gave the appearance of swiss cheese. The rest looked gritty, like gravel had been shoved into the wound or gave a pitted appearance. It was a wound and scar pattern he had never seen before in his life. And it traveled down the rest of his arm, with more chunks of flesh missing, until it came to his hand.

Stephen was missing the entirety of his pinky and half of the ring finger. Parts of his palm was burned away. His beautifully slender fingers on the left hand were mirrored to sickly and appeared like they could snap off at any given moment.

The rest of him was partially obscured, with him hunched over in his chair and practically curled into himself. Tony couldn’t see his face, and he was afraid of what he might find. Yet he came closer. He crept up inch by inch, waiting for someone to tell him to stay back, waiting for Stephen to say something, to look at him, to do _anything_ , but Stephen didn’t move. Just shivered.

That’s when he heard Stephen’s voice. It was ravaged past recognition, grating like he was scraping his vocal cords against sandpaper, but he could just make out the words.

“M-make it, bandage them, missing bandages, missing pills, need the pills, find the pills, go to the market for the pills, she like she market, she likes the fans, the market, find the pills, four bottles, replace, find the pills, help the pain, make her sleep, no more pain, pain is bad, pain hurts, won’t be in pain, won’t be in bad, bad place, bad hurts, hurting, hurts, burns, burning, bandage burns, change bandage, need more bandage, m-make more bandage, use cloth for bandage, clean first, bleach, need peroxide, four bottles, more pills.”

It was hard to figure out where words began and where others ended, if any of them had an actual cohesion at all. They were scrambled, thrown and tossed about with no sense. And they just kept rambling on and on, rotating around themselves, one thought melting into the next with no pause in between.

“He was on the steps like this when I got here to get ready.”

Fury’s voice almost made Tony jump, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Stephen’s appearance. His body was still shaking, shivering like he was cold at some points while other times looking like he was on the verge of a seizure. Tony still could not see his face, tucked into his hands and the scarf he clung to so tightly.

“He hasn’t said anything to us, hasn’t recognized us… He’s on autopilot from what I can see.” Fury shifted from where he sat in Tony’s chair, getting up to his feet. Out of the corner of his eye, Tony could see him motioning for him to sit down. “Bruce and Thor have already tried to talk to him, we were hoping he will respond to you.”

Tony swallowed. What would happen if he did respond? Questions were filtering in and out of his head, but which were the important ones? Probably first asking whose blood was all over him. Though Tony’s gaze kept coming back to Stephen’s arm, he could see no fresh wound on it. No leaking scars and burns, no tears, nothing. It couldn’t be his blood.

“Uh, mind if I sit next to you, Doc?” Tony started, his voice caught in his throat. No change, the muttering continued on unbroken. It was to the point that he feared Stephen may start running out of oxygen at any given point. With no other choice, Tony stood back up and sank into his chair, moving as slow as he could. The battery weighed him down into his seat, and his fingers drummed on the metal. What to start with…

“Stephen, I, ah, thought you weren’t-”

Stephen stood up from his chair suddenly. His hands clutched the scarf to his chest in any attempt to protect it. He did not look back at Tony, and instead staggered his way across the meeting room.

Immediately, Fury was back to his feet, grabbing at chairs and pulling them out of Stephen’s path. This must have happened before, because Fury seemed to know where he was heading; the table. But there was still another obstacle for Stephen to overcome.

Wanda. She was standing directly in his path, her body stiff and ready to move at any second to either grab him or catch him at any misstep. What she hadn’t foreseen was Stephen bumping straight into her shoulder, but it was like she wasn’t even there. Even as she grabbed at his arm, his _right arm,_ to steady herself, Stephen just… kept going. Didn’t flinch, didn’t do anything but walk to the table.

The room was silent as Stephen pulled his left hand off the scarf and reached out, managing to grab onto a cup of coffee still sitting on the table. With his mission successful, Stephen turned back around and wandered back to his chair. He was already drinking the coffee by the time he sat, making another icy chill run through Tony. Stephen had never even taken a sip of it before, always staring at it with disdain. Whatever little part of Stephen’s mind that was aware was telling him that he needed to stay awake, even if it took drowning himself in coffee-colored water.

But then Stephen paused halfway through the cup and stared at the ground. He stared at a specific spot, but Tony could only look at his face. Finally, he had a view of his face. He wished he didn’t, though.

Stephen’s eyes had always fascinated him. Every time he met Stephen, they always seemed to change colors. The first time he came to the meetings, they had been a rich emerald, enchantingly bright and vivid even when the rest of his body screamed unease. The second meeting, they had turned blue. A smoky, stormy blue. A rumbling storm was held within them, one that broke out when Tony made the mistake of touching him. After that moment, they had turned dull, and Tony knew that Stephen had faded away.

The third meeting was an odd combination of a pale blue with hints of green, but Tony was not given much time to marvel at them. He had started fading in and out again, his eyes turning glassy like a fish’s. Staring straight through whatever was in front of him.

Now, though, they were the palest blues he had ever seen. A mixture of gray lingered in the depths, that storm still rumbling in the distance. But it wasn’t the color that made Tony unable to look away, he _wished_ that was why.

They were dead. Soulless. A corpse took ownership of those breathtaking eyes, a living corpse that was muttering and shivering endlessly beside him. There was nothing within those eyes that signaled that Stephen was there. No warmth, no humor, not even a chill or the looming presence of those memories. Just…

Empty.

Then Stephen moved. It was quick, even if shaky. Tony’s eyes went to Stephen’s left hand that still held that coffee cup and watched as it was placed down at the floor. Placed in front of his feet, right beside five other cups, still half filled and waiting for him in a neat line.

Tony felt the crack in his heart as he stared at the cups. Even in his fragmented mind, Stephen was aware enough of what Tony wanted. Even if he didn’t know Tony was there beside him, he was still in his thoughts. Maybe it was a comfort for his mind to fall back to, becoming less helpless?

Stephen’s mumbling hadn’t stopped, but it was a little softer. He could be hearing the voices around him and was listening, or he could just feel the ache in his throat from the constant speaking. “How long has he…?”

“I got here an hour ago. The blood had already been dry about everywhere else, so probably longer than that. There wasn’t any blood around the block, I checked.”

Another crack in his heart. How long had Stephen been wandering out in the streets, or just waiting for the doors to open to his own sanctuary? To the only place he felt safe? Where had he even come from? And… why was he holding that scarf?

Something fell into place in his mind, and his heart fell into the pit of his stomach. He remembered seeing that scarf. That was ‘The Ancient One’s’ scarf. Connecting that with the blood and Stephen’s sudden detachment from the rest of the world… It started to click together in an image Tony immediately tried to stuff away. He bit the inside of his cheek to hold back the words that wanted to pour out. Stephen wasn’t going to be able to answer him, and he doubted Stephen wanted anyone else knowing who Tao was and what could have happened to her.

So he stayed quiet, even as the questions just kept building and building. His eyes flicked down to Stephen’s arm, and his stomach churned at the sight. It looked like it was rotting off as they spoke, but somehow, he could only smell the blood. Whatever had happened to his arm, it was healing this way. It would stay this way forever.

“He always has that wrapped up,” Tony murmured, pointing down to Stephen’s arm, as if he needed any clarification. “We should… probably fix that.”

Tony said ‘we,’ but he was well aware that no one would be volunteering. The arm looked like it was from some zombie flick where touching it would spread the disease. Almost like leprosy. If there was anyone who would know how to fix it, though, it had to be Bruce.

“Hang tight, Doc,” Tony said, just in case there really was a part of Stephen that was listening. Stephen didn’t move and was still staring down at his red scarf snarled in his shaking hands. Swallowing back the emotions churning inside him, Tony dragged himself to his feet. He sidestepped the coffee cups, since the last thing he needed was to freak Stephen out by spilling all his hard work, and crossed the room to enter the hallway again.

Most of the others were inside now, all gathered just out of sight of the main room. Tony tried to pretend not to notice the way they were moving away, like whatever was happening to Stephen would transfer by getting too close to Tony. He wasn’t sure whether he should feel angry, humiliated or both. Probably both. He’d decide later when he didn’t feel like everything was falling apart in front of him.

“Bruce,” he said, motioning towards the man to follow. Bruce was standing the farthest away, almost with his back to the wall, and even before he could finish his name, he was shaking his head. Tony quirked up an eyebrow. “C’mon, man, he’s not gonna bite. I just need you to help me patch up his arm. Get it covered up before… I don’t know, it falls off.”

“I’m not touching that,” Bruce breathed, his voice quivering. “I can’t.”

“Jesus, man, it’s not gonna infect you. Aren’t you a scientist? Don’t you play around with this shit for a living?” Tony snapped back, unable to subdue the anger that flooded into him. Everyone was acting like Stephen was a plague. All Stephen was right now was _hurting._ Wasn’t this the exact place where he was supposed to go to get help?

Bruce swallowed hard. His face had gone even more pale. “You don’t understand, I _can’t._ He’s been-” The words wouldn’t come, as Bruce just stared back into the room. But he managed to swallow down the frog in his throat and try again. “Whatever happened to him, it’s not going to… It’s already too late to help him.”

Tony snorted. It looks like he couldn’t depend on anyone else for this. “You better hope you don’t ever need any help from _him._ The guy’s got a whole hospital to take care of, he’s not gonna waste his time on you.” Perhaps it wasn’t the best thing to say, but all Tony could see were a bunch of scared children who wouldn’t touch Stephen because he was icky.

He turned his back on the group and stalked back into the main room, where Fury had taken up the seat on Stephen’s left side. “Do we have anything fresh or do we just gotta use what we already have?” Tony asked as he sat back into his chair, situating the battery more comfortably on his lap. It was going to be hard to work around the battery, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Just had to keep working.

Fury shook his head. “We would have to go to a camp or barracks if we wanted fresh bandages. This will have to do.” He was watching Stephen’s expression, like he was waiting for it to change, but no luck. Stephen was almost completely catatonic to the rest of the world. No touch could pull him out of it, and nothing they have said had worked either.

“I need to start the session, to at least get their attention somewhere else. If you need help from me, don’t hesitate. If he starts coming out of it, though, we’re gonna have to clear the room out. You’ll stay with me and we can try to talk him through.” Fury was practically speaking Greek. Talk him out of what? The fact that he had gone absolutely insane for whatever reason neither of them had the foggiest idea over? Stephen had reacted badly enough when he had been touched at that second session. What would happen when he realized the entire group had witnessed his breakdown, and remembered whatever happened that sent him spiralling in the first place?

As soon as he finished speaking, Fury stood up and started shifting around the chairs. He closed the circle a few feet away, enough to give Tony and Stephen some room without being crowded. Tony would much rather take Stephen somewhere private, but none of the other rooms had been cleared. Any connecting path from this central room was boarded up by whoever had been here before them. They were stuck all sharing the same room, and it wasn’t as if Tony could move Stephen even if he tried.

“Alright, Doc, how are we doing this?” Tony muttered under his breath, leaning over to start picking up the loose bandages. He didn’t really like the idea of putting on bloodied bandages over a possibly open wound, but Stephen had already been wearing them for however long it took the blood to dry. With careful tugs, Tony freed the entire strip from the damaged limb. Now just to find out how to bind this up… The simplest way would be to just wrap it and cover as much ground as possible, but how will it stay? Wouldn’t it just slip off?

Well, normally when Tony found himself in these situations, it would just be as easy as Googling it. Now, Tony was on his own. The post-war world really sucked. How was he supposed to find all the useless information that would suddenly now be useful?

“I’d like to offer my assistance.”

Tony blinked and turned his head, then felt his body sag with relief. Thor was dragging his chair from the group, who were trickling back into the room. While Thor seemed just as disturbed by the sight before him, he was still willing to help. It looked like he had a new best friend to replace Bruce already. “Thanks, Lebowski. At least you got a spine.”

Thor set his chair down in front of Stephen, squinting at his arm. He visibly paled. “I’m not certain I do anymore.”

“You’ll do great. I just need to figure out how we’re redoing these bandages and we’ll be good. The rest is up to him.” Tony glanced around the room, furrowing his brow with thought. Come on, he could make toasters from literal garbage. How hard was it going to be to just wrap up an arm? He was going to need some sort of a glue or something sticky…

“Hey, Fury, we got any tape?”

“No.”

“What kinda shitty place is this, then?” Tony groaned before standing up. There was debris piled up around the walls, but even as he started picking through it, there was nothing of interest. There were old nails, but they didn’t want to _stab_ the bandages on. He rounded the room before he came back to the table. There were still two cups of coffee, since apparently everyone was awake as it was by the ‘show.’ Tony took one and drank as he searched the table.

There were markers, pens and pencils, some slips of paper…

“Ah, perfect,” Tony chirped as he grabbed the name tags. The glue on them was still shitty and old, but it was good enough. He tucked them on top of the battery under his other arm and glanced back to the group staring at him. “Hey, if you guys don’t know each other’s names by now, you’re shitty therapy mates.”

“Says the person who renames everyone anyway,” someone called out in the circle. Tony squinted at the caller, a woman he had kindly regarded as the Queen of Hearts.

“Joke’s on you, I _do_ know all your names. It’s just more fun this way, Natasha Romanoff.” The flush that colored her cheeks was enough to make Tony grin, shedding off a bit of weight from the room. He walked back across the room and sank back into his chair just in time to see Thor hesitantly running his fingers along Stephen’s scarred arm.

Thor immediately snapped his hand back, shame washing over his expression. “I-I realize he is not a toy, but I have never seen…”

“It’s alright, bud, I don’t think any of us have seen this,” Tony soothed, knowing that if he scared Thor off by scolding him that he would be back to doing this alone. “We all react to things in different ways. I’m just glad your reaction is wanting to help.” _Unlike some people._ The unspoken words hung in the air, and Tony hoped that Bruce got a good earful. No matter what had crawled into his ass, he shouldn’t be turning his back on Stephen because he didn’t like how his arm looked.

“Now,” Tony began, scooting his chair over to sit side by side with Stephen. “I think what I’m gonna have you do is hold his arm while I put on the bandages. I’ll tape them as I go with the tags.” Thor nodded in response, determination etching into his expression. Reaching down, Tony carefully placed his hand on Stephen’s bicep.

The skin was ragged to the touch, almost scaley. He could feel the ridges and holes against his palm and his fingers would slip into the dips. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end at the strange sensation, but he swallowed it back down. He could be grossed out after he helped Stephen. He carefully lifted Stephen’s arm up, though ended up dragging both arms as Stephen would not release the scarf in his hands. That little detail was going to make this even harder than it already was, but he couldn’t bear to make Stephen let go of what could be the last remnant of his… whatever Tao was. Mentor? Mother figure?

Tony placed his other hand on Stephen’s forearm, and while he expected the skin to be bubbled up and squishy like it appeared, it was hard like a shell. He ran his fingers across a few of the holes, making sure to not let them touch the inside just in case there were still live nerves waiting to be disturbed. Waking Stephen up by immeasurable agony was not high on Tony’s to-do list.

“Alright, I want you to hold it up like this,” Tony said, squirming in his chair to move closer. If it wasn’t for this damn battery in his lap, he could move freely, not have to sit down to do all of this. But the battery was staying in his lap, it wasn’t going anywhere else. It was his literal heart at this point, and trusting it to be fiddled around by anyone else was out of the question. It was too vulnerable for a man who was supposed to be ‘made of iron.’ “Try to keep it as straight out as you can. If you have to, prop it up-”

Stephen moved, and Tony almost jumped out of his chair. The other man’s left hand released the red scarf only to latch onto Tony’s forearm instead. Stephen’s thin fingers dug into Tony’s right arm and they were shaking. It was like he was holding onto him for support.

“...Doc?” Tony calls, just in case this was Stephen working his way back. There was no response. Stephen’s head was still tucked low, mouth moving around almost silent mutterings that Tony couldn’t make heads or tails out of. Biting into his bottom lip, Tony decided to continue.

“Well, he let go of the scarf, so that’ll help. Maybe if you can have him… hold onto your arm instead?” Tony asked, though the words struggled to leave his throat. It was just to help bandage up his arm, he told himself. Stephen didn’t even know he was there, or knew who he was. It didn’t matter.

Thor nodded and reached out to Stephen’s hand. His fingers only just skimmed over the back of Stephen’s left hand before they dug deeper into Tony’s arm. That’s when he moved again.

It was lightning fast, like a sudden convulsion of his muscles, and Stephen almost barreled himself against Tony’s chest. At first, Tony thought it was an attack, trying to push him away in any way he could, but… Stephen stopped. He had his head pushed into Tony’s far right shoulder, and his hand let go of Tony’s arm if only to grab at his shirt, thankfully far enough away from the wires and metal piece lodged in his chest. The sudden movement had almost pushed the battery off his lap had it not been for Tony grabbing it with his now released arm. Then Stephen was still again, back to a statue.

Tony blinked, and for what felt like an eternity, just sat there. He waited for Stephen to do whatever it was his body had demanded, to push him away or attack for touching his arm, but the other man only shivered. Stephen was still sitting down in his own chair, hunched over his body and pushing the battery into his stomach. It hurt, but Tony could ignore it. Once he was certain Stephen was not going to attack or rip the battery wires out of him, Tony carefully draped his arms back over Stephen’s quivering form. He rested his left arm across Stephen’s shoulders to tug him that little bit closer, while the other arm circled to curl around him and the battery. 

At first he attempted to nudge the battery into a more comfortable spot, but whenever there was an inch of space opening up between him and Stephen, Stephen closed it immediately. Tony gave up quickly enough.

“Alright, new plan,” Tony grunted, trying to assess the situation. Stephen had his right shoulder pinned between them, but he had his hand resting on top of the battery, hanging uselessly. At least there was one thing they could wrap up. “I’ll have you wrap up his hand. We’ll see if we can get the rest of his arm later.”

While Thor opened his mouth to try to offer a solution, probably one involving putting Stephen back into his chair proper, he too seemed to realize that there was no use fighting against Stephen. Even now, with all the physical contact between them, his eyes were still blank and dead. There was no way to know what was going on inside his head, what demons he could be fighting that he was hiding from. If Tony could help by just… being here, then he would do it.

Tony sighed and rested his head back against the chair, closing his eyes. This was going to be a long session. It was only confirmed further when Stephen pushed himself deeper into his chest. But even now, Tony couldn’t find it within himself to complain. He’d allow this, he told himself.

Yeah, he’d allow this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The comic was created by the amazing TheDanielHD! He has a [Twitter,](https://twitter.com/thedanielhds?lang=en) [Instagram,](https://www.instagram.com/thedanielhd/?hl=en) [ Tumblr,](https://lovethedanielhd.tumblr.com) and so many more! Give him some love <3


	8. The Price of Living

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony simply can't allow Stephen to wander off, not in this condition. So he follows him, just to make sure he makes it home. It's there that he sees the true price of war.

It was around eight that Tony started to lose feeling in his legs. The battery that was pushed almost to his knees was cutting off a bit more circulation than he appreciated, but it couldn’t be helped. Mostly because he had no intention on moving the _other_ reason to why his legs are falling asleep.

If someone had told him that Stephen Strange was going to be crawling into his lap today, he would have scoffed and told them to quit peeking in his diary. Though if someone had told him Stephen would be doing it solely because his mind was in absolute shambles after some horrid event that may have led to a death to someone very close to Stephen, he’d say he could wait for another excuse to have Stephen in his lap. But he didn’t get that choice, so here Stephen was, huddled into him like he was the last shred of sanity.

It took some time, but Tony managed to reintegrate them into the group. Thor was sitting on his left, Bruce on his right, and Tony ignored the stares from the rest of the room. He wasn’t sure he should be happy or irritated by the fact that the others were capable of ignoring Stephen when he obviously needed help. Fury would pause every now and then to ask if Tony needed anything, since he was immobilized by Stephen, but other than that, silence.

Though there were times that Stephen would get up. They had learned to keep a clear path to the table, where whatever remained of the coffee was laid out. When the coffee was empty, though, Stephen would bring back cups. Just the cups. And every time, he would set them down right back in front of Tony’s feet. It formed a wall of cups to surround his chair, one that Tony was afraid to disturb.

But he still couldn’t figure out why Stephen kept coming back to him. Only him. Even when there were people in the way, people closer to Stephen for him to cling to, he would pick out Tony’s seat each and every time. Even when he had ran out of cups to bring back, which he had suspected as being the sole reason Stephen kept coming back to him, he still came right back to Tony.

During one of these trips for coffee cups, he and Thor swapped seats. It was mostly to give Tony a chance to move his legs and have the battery sit proper on his lap, but when Stephen came back with one more cup, he shuffled to a stop in front of Tony’s former chair. Through those glassy, dead eyes, Stephen stared at Thor. Even when Thor held out his arms, inviting himself to be used for comfort, Stephen still didn’t move.

Then Stephen gathered up the cups, walked to where Tony was now sitting instead, laid out the cups back to their little wall, and resumed the same position as before. Whatever it was about this, Stephen was actively searching for Tony each and every time. No one else would suffice.

At least Tony could now say that he was Stephen’s favorite. Even if only during traumatic episodes of insanity.

After Stephen ran out of cups, Tony let himself focus on the rest of Stephen. Every now and then, he’d begin his mumbling again, usually lasting ten to fifteen minutes before quieting again. His words would tangle up around medical supplies, medical procedures, Tao, then… just randomness. He talked about coffee a lot. And he talked about burning. Fire.

“Bruce,” he muttered, glancing to him out of the corner of his eye. “You know what happened to his arm. That’s why you won’t touch it.”

The paleness on Bruce’s expression, and the stammers that followed, were enough answers for him. Tony may be a genius, but it would be an insult on his intelligence to rely only on that to figure out the mystery. Glancing down, he stared at the scarred flesh peeking out between some of the hastily woven bandages. This wasn’t just fire, maybe for parts of it, but not for his hand. The disturbing white, the holes, this wasn’t fire.

“Is there anything that can be done for it?” Tony cut through the rest of Bruce’s stuttering, adjusting his chin to sit on top of Stephen’s head. He ran his hand down to Stephen’s arm and let his fingers run across a particularly deep hole. Stephen didn’t move, so he assumed that either the nerves were dead or he was in too deep to feel the pain.

“...No. Skin grafts, but it’s too late now.”

Of course it was. Maybe if the world wasn’t blown to shit, Stephen could have gotten help. Hell, he worked in a _hospital._ It should have been the perfect place to get the help he needed. Then again, if the world wasn’t so shit, he might not be attached to the battery either. Shoulda, coulda, woulda. Wasn’t going to do a lot to think about it now.

“You and I are gonna be chatting later.”

“I’d really rather we didn’t.”

“And I don’t think you’re giving me much of a choice.”

The conversation ended there, not that Tony would have listened unless it was Bruce giving him an explanation. Tony glanced back up to the clock. In about fifteen minutes, the session would be over. Good, because his legs were starting to cramp again. He honestly could just sit the battery onto the ground, but that little voice inside his head warned him better of it. It was his literal lifeline, and it wasn’t going to be leaving his grasp anytime soon.

Tony pulled his hand off of Stephen’s arm and rested it onto his back, trying to imagine any way to help Stephen at least feel comfortable. But he was already wondering what he was going to have to do now. Would he have to take Stephen to his apartment, just to make sure he stays safe? Was Stephen going to come out of this on his own, or did he need help? What if Stephen stops eating or drinking and just shuts down entirely? And what if-

He was pulled out of his thoughts when Stephen went stiff on his lap. “Steph, you alright-” Tony started, but before he could even finish the sentence, Stephen was already out of his lap. The group around them went quiet again, just like whenever Stephen did something odd, or… anything, honestly. They stared up at him, some waiting to move in case he would go search for more coffee cups. But no, Stephen was just standing there. His arms hung down at his sides, and his eyes stared off in some random direction, still blank and blind.

Though Tony saw the bandages already unfurling from Stephen’s arm, draping the ground again. “Shit,” he muttered, squirming to get back up. He thought he had tucked them together well enough, but apparently not. “Thor, gimme a hand.”

Thor was already up on his feet and reaching for Stephen’s bad arm by the time Tony situated the battery under one arm and stood up straight. It took a few seconds to get the feeling back into his legs, and the pins and needles sensation even longer to leave, but he limped his way to Stephen’s right side. Thor was holding Stephen’s arm out straight, though visibly disturbed by the texture beneath his fingers. He had one hand under Stephen’s bicep and had his arm under Stephen’s hand, if just to not damage whatever was left of his fingers by holding too tightly. They were so thin that they looked moments away from breaking off, much like his pinkie and most of his ring finger.

“Nothing to see here, people,” Tony muttered as he felt the stares on them, instead focusing on the bandages dangling from Stephen’s wrist. He unwound the bandages from the rest of Stephen’s arm and hand, then started over. This time, he started at the bicep and worked his way down. He taped down randomly to make sure that it wasn’t going to all come apart at the smallest movement, and as the flesh turned from the angry red to the white, he was starting to get the hang of it.

At least until he got to the hand.

Tony furrowed his brow as he stared at it. It may be easiest to close Stephen’s hand into a fist and do it that way… But he didn’t want to cut off already horrid circulation… Sucking up his courage, Tony straightened out Stephen’s fingers as much as they were able, then wound the bandages. He ended up having to literally tie the ends together in a few different places, but it was serviceable. Stephen wasn’t going to get an infection, if that was still something they needed to worry about. Honestly, it looked healed, as much as it could be. Maybe Stephen just wanted to hide it.

“Thor, can you grab my coat?” he asked, still checking over the bandages. Thor came back a mere minute later, and he stepped back. “I want you to at least get the sleeve on his arm. He likes it covered up that way. I didn’t see one so he must have lost it on the way over.” Or just didn’t have it at all. With how ragged he appeared, Tony wouldn’t put it past him.

Any other time, seeing Stephen wrapped up in his coat would have been endearing. Especially with the way it was a little too small, the sleeve ending a little short of his wrist. The fabric was straining against his lean body, his shoulders, and as Thor tucked his other arm into the sleeve, it looked like it barely fit at all. But it would have to do, since it would keep Stephen warm for… whatever was happening next.

When Thor released both his arms, Stephen’s right hand soon clung to the left, clinging to the red scarf that had never left his grasp. Tony took a moment to look him over. He was at least dressed enough to keep warm. His arm was wrapped up properly. He had whatever he came in with, which was almost nothing. And now the meeting was nearly over. As much as Tony knew it would be a pain, he had to take Stephen to his apartment. There was no other way to make sure he was safe.

“Thor, which way do you live?” Tony asked. “Like, which District are you heading back to?”

“I don’t live far. A few blocks north.”

“Shit. Well, if you could help me at least get him out of the building, I can-”

Then Stephen started walking.

It was like someone had flipped a switch. Thor had to skitter out of the way to make sure he wasn’t in Stephen’s way, almost shoving a few people in the process. They all cleared a path, thankfully, since no one was paying attention to the actual meeting any longer.

“Shit,” Tony muttered again, picking his way past the people. He stopped just to look over his shoulder to the wall clock. 8:30. The exact time that the meeting was ending. “Even half out of his mind, he still has impeccable timing,” Tony scoffed and turned back. Stephen was already halfway out the door. Well, it looked like the plan was changing once again. Follow Stephen, figure out where the hell he’s going, and go from there.

Tony darted out after Stephen, as fast as his battery would allow him to be, and Stephen turned right. Same as always. Maybe he would find his way home by himself? Tony bit down on his bottom lip and deliberated. He might get his ass in trouble if he wasn’t home by curfew, but he had to make sure Stephen didn’t get himself mugged, lost, or worse, while in this condition. It looks like he was following Stephen home.

He tried to be sneaky at first, as if Stephen would suddenly snap at him for following. It may have been wishful thinking, if anything. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about whatever was going on in Stephen’s mind. But no, he wasn’t that lucky, and with every block they walked down, Tony closed the distance. He glanced at his watch for a second and winced. It was already past nine at night. With curfew set at ten, he _definitely_ was not making it home on time, and being caught out past curfew was even worse than being at some random building. 

So he followed. And followed. And followed some more. He caught up to the point that they were walking side by side and Stephen still made no acknowledgement of his presence. And just as Tony started to fear that Stephen had no idea where he was going at all, a large building came into view. A hospital, by the looks of it. The name of the building had been destroyed at some point and left just a few straggling letters. The parking lot was empty, with the cars probably gutted and torn apart years ago for scraps and parts. There were lamps that stood their lonely vigil, and those with working bulbs cast light upon them.

The front doors were open and he squinted to make out the two shapes standing in the light. As soon as he and Stephen stepped underneath one of the lit lamps, the shapes moved and rushed forward. Two people, a man and a woman. Both were wearing what looked like scrubs. As they passed under the lights, Tony winced. He could see the red staining the turquoise fabric. The woman was still wearing her mask, which she only pulled down when she ran closer, outrunning the man.

“Stephen!” she cried out, the tone of her voice making Tony stop in his tracks. She had been crying, her cheeks still wet with tears. She was in a full sprint, not stopping until she quite literally collided into him. Her arms wrapped tight around his chest, squeezing with so much strength that Tony wondered how she hadn’t crushed Stephen’s right arm in the process.

“Oh my god, Stephen, where did you _go?”_ she sobbed, her face buried into his chest as she clung to him. “You just left, and we didn’t know what happened! We even went to the rafters because we thought-”

All of a sudden, she jumped back, separating their bodies by a few feet. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to grab you, I just- we were all so worried and-”

By this point, the man had caught up and looked moments away from repeating what the woman had done, had he not caught himself. They both were staring at Stephen, now, falling into silence. Tony forced himself to look up at Stephen as well.

Still blank. He was looking right past them, staring at the direction of the hospital. With his sudden roadblock cleared, Stephen just started walking again as if nothing had happened. The woman reached out for him, to stop him, but the man grabbed her arm and held her back. They held their collective breath as Stephen walked past them, never missing a step, never turning his head to look at the people who must have been worried sick, worried to the point of wondering if he had commited suicide.

“Strange,” the man called out, his voice low and uneasy. Stephen still didn’t turn back. Just kept walking.

Tony stared after him, his heart plummeting down to the bottom of his ribs. So not even close friends were able to pull Stephen out of his catatonic state. He took a quick glance at his watch and swallowed. It was about twenty minutes until ten, and not nearly enough time to get back home. It looks like he was stuck here until dawn. Stifling away a sigh, Tony adjusted his grasp on the battery and started to follow Stephen. 

It took a little longer for the other two to follow, and Tony wasn’t sure if his presence was even acknowledged yet, but there were bigger fish to fry. The first fish being that they needed to get Stephen inside and to… wherever he has to go. The other two passed him soon enough, the woman tenderly taking Stephen’s left arm while the man walked up ahead to get the doors.

The entire time, the woman was whispering to Stephen, trying to meet his eyes, and even Tony could see she was holding back tears. He only caught a few words, mostly saying that everything was alright, the usual empty words that Tony was sure was passed around endlessly. They walked up the stone steps, Tony staying behind the group, then finally entered the hospital.

Well, the other three did. Tony stopped short of the door.

There were… People. Dozens upon dozens of _people._ Just laying on the ground, some with blankets, others with sleeping bags, and even more with nothing but the clothes on their backs. They all scattered the tile floor, and he started to pick out families grouped together in corners. Mothers, fathers, children… Just… Living there. 

The more he looked, the worse he found. There were several people who had bandages wrapped around wounds or stitches holding the wounds shut. Children were tucked close to their mother’s side, and he could visibly see differences in eye color, skin, hair… Different children, all holding onto one mother. Some children couldn’t be older than thirteen, curled up alone with whatever they had. Others were the elderly, grouped together to keep warm. And then there were _babies._  

Tony stood there, stunned as he was surrounded by living, breathing people with barely enough room to lay down properly.

“You.”

Snapping his head up, Tony blinked at the person who addressed him. It was the man. Quickly glancing around, Tony saw Stephen being led further down the hall, then turning a corner and disappearing from sight. “Shit, I gotta stick with him,” Tony muttered, already starting to move past the man.

But the man just moved back in front to block his path, his eyes narrowed. “Who are you and what do you want? We already have every doctor working, so unless you’re moments from dropping dead, we cannot take care of you.”

Take care of him? Tony snorted, squinting his eyes back. Why would he need-

Oh. Right. The battery attached to his chest. Of course that would look a little odd to any doctor who saw it. “This isn’t an issue,” Tony sighed, holding up the battery. “Well, it is, but it’s not why I’m here. I just wanted to make sure Stephen got home safe.”

“You know him?” the man asked, one eyebrow raised. He took a moment to look at Tony from head to toe, and his frown deepened. “If he’s attempting to give you medical aid, I would highly advise against it, as he’s currently-”

“No, I’m his friend.”

Well, Friend may have been stretching it. Acquaintance? Does having Stephen curled up in his lap for two hours count as an upgrade to friendship status? Was there a line he had to cross before he could be considered Stephen’s friend? 

The man seemed surprised, blinking at Tony and waiting for a punchline he wasn’t going to get. “You’re telling me he has friends outside the hospital?” he deadpanned, narrowing his eyes again as soon as the apparent shock had passed. “You still haven’t told me exactly _who_ you are.”

“God, you’re a stickler,” Tony grunted, adjusting his grasp on the battery and tucking it beneath one arm. “Tony Stark, if you gotta know.”

“Oh, you’re one of his ‘imaginary friends,’” the man said, realization finally dawning upon him. “But we don’t have a bed to spare, right now, imaginary friend or not. So while I appreciate you fetching Stephen back, I must ask you to leave.”

“Not happening,” Tony scoffed. “One, it’s almost ten. I’m not gonna get my ass picked up by the military for breaking curfew. Two, I’m not leaving until I figure out what the _hell_ happened to make Stephen just…” Tony waved one hand in the air. “Whatever you call that. Three, I don’t feel like it. I walked an hour holding this damn heavy-ass thing while freezing because Stephen got my jacket, like hell am I leaving.”

Maybe his attitude was getting in the way a _tiny_ bit, but Tony wasn’t back down without at least an explanation. And his jacket. He liked that jacket.

The man let out a long sigh, and Tony knew he had won. It was probably more to the fact that the man was too tired to fight back, if just by the blood on his scrubs and the rings under his eyes alone. “Where was he?” he asked, stepping back and finally motioning for Tony to follow.

“We had our meeting, and Stephie just sorta showed up before anyone else. Fury found him on the steps, he hadn’t talked to anyone, just kinda wandered in and sat at his spot. He kept talking to himself, like he was listing things?” Tony glanced back behind him, his gut still twisted at the sight of all the people. It was at this moment that his shitty apartment he lived alone definitely wasn’t so shitty after all. He could fit… so many people in that apartment, now that he thought about it. And it would be sitting empty tonight.

“That’s what I was afraid you would say,” the man sighed, leading Tony down the same hall that the woman and Stephen had gone through earlier. They came to a set of stairs and Tony stared at them in disdain. Having to lug the stupid battery up all these stairs… He suffered in silence, other than his grumbling which weren’t quite as silent as he had hoped.

“To answer your inquiry,” the man began, already at the top of the steps and waiting for Tony to catch up, “there was a very unfortunate… accident. One of our doctors is critically injured and Stephen witnessed it.”

“It was Tao, wasn’t it?”

More surprise, but it faded quicker this time. He nodded. “Yes, it was. We aren’t sure if she will pull through.” For a moment, just a moment, there was a crack in his calm demeanor, enough to show that flash of sorrow and grief, before he straightened up and turned away. “She is a mentor figure to most of us, and Stephen was very attached to her. Seeing her attacked broke whatever sanity he had left.”

So, not an accident, Tony thought. Actually attacked. Someone had attacked a doctor as gentle and kind as Tao. Had it not been for the battery in his arms, Tony may have stomped out of the hospital and gone to hunt down whoever had her blood on their hands.

Once Tony stepped out into the hall, he heard the woman’s voice again.

“No, you need to get to bed, you haven’t slept since- _no.”_

“Christine,” the man called out, his voice dull and tired. “Just let him.”

Tony stared down the hall and swallowed. Stephen was trying to reach a door, one that Christine was blocking off with her body. Still, Stephen just stared right through her, reaching for the knob to get inside. Christine stared back down the hall and hesitated, then finally stepped away.

“He needs to sleep, he’ll only get worse if he can’t rest,” she persisted, her eyes trained on Stephen as he opened the door and disappeared inside the room.

“I know, but he has to see her.”

Her.

Tony rushed down the hall, not caring as Christine reached out to pull him back only to be called off by the man again. They were bickering back and forth in the hall, but Tony didn’t care to listen. He only focused on the inside of the room.

Stephen was walking to the bed that was surrounded by surgical instruments on trays. Machines were beeping along, using precious energy. A blood bag was draining down into the frighteningly pale form laying in the bed. There was a chair right beside the head of the bed, where a man was perched upon it, eyes heavy with the lack of sleep but focused on his task. That task was holding the oxygen mask to Tao’s face, squeezing the bag attached and releasing. In and out. Breathing for her.

Stephen didn’t break stride. Instead, he reached out and wrapped his hands around the airbag, not missing a beat. Relieved of his duties, the man squirmed out of his chair and walked out of the room, barely giving Tony so much as a glance. But Tony couldn’t look away from where Stephen sat, both of his hands tenderly holding the bag like a newborn. The bandages were starting to slip off his right hand again, exposing the missing fingers and burned skin, but Stephen never once paused.

He just mouthed the numbers in between each pump, an unending ritual to keep Tao alive until… Well, until.

Perhaps it was all Stephen could do to help, with one hand being robbed from him and making it impossible to operate. Tony had no problem imagining Stephen in that chair for hours as doctors worked to save his mentor, getting lost in his own head as he counted the seconds to and from, counting each breath he forced into Tao, never willing to give up on her. Not even for a moment of rest.

“You can stay in the nurses’ quarters until sunrise,” the male voice spoke behind him. Tony blinked and stared back at him with bleary eyes. “I’ll watch over him until he’s ready to rest.”

“Make sure he does,” Tony rasped, throwing one more look over his shoulder. It was the only time he saw Stephen’s eyes focus on anything, and they focused solely on the bag in his hands. Stephen’s world was narrowed down to only his task, his only reason to stay awake.

Keeping Tao alive.

* * *

 

God, Tony would give just about anything to at least have _carpet._  

He bit down his complaints, as he knew that the fact he was given blankets was a sacrifice. He was a guest to their ‘home,’ no matter how oddly it came about. He was curled up on one blanket with another draped over his body, but the chill of the floor was unavoidable. He really missed his jacket right about now. Even with his battery just inches away from his chest, it did very little to keep him warm. The battery was running at the bare minimum needed. He tucked one arm around the battery and held it closer, sucking in whatever heat it gave off.

Tony sighed and closed his eyes, refusing to stare under the beds any longer. He wished he could just sleep in one, but most were taken. The man, he learned his name was Wong, was still watching over Stephen while almost all the other doctors were asleep. The only other beds that weren’t taken were Stephen’s, a doctor that had stepped out a couple minutes ago, and… Tao’s. Her’s was sitting at the far corner, still neatly made. All the beds were lined up against the wall, one after another, all facing the opposite wall. That wall was cluttered almost from floor to roof in boxes. Supplies. Everything needed to run a hospital, shelter, whatever you want to call this place, lied in those boxes.

Tony tried not to stare at the red smears on a few of the boxes, handprints pressed against wood and cardboard, or how it still stained the bottoms.

A day or two ago, Stephen had been hovering over Tao, trying to keep the life from leaving her body. He was doing the exact same now, at least whatever was left of him. Tony knew life was fleeting, but… To be attacked in a hospital? To attack a _doctor?_ How far had the world fallen?

Tony blinked open his eyes when the door opened. The security lights in the hall, probably the only lights that were on, poured into the room and shadowed two figures. The taller one he already recognized as Stephen’s, the other probably Wong. He shut his eyes again as the steps grew closer, feigning sleep like a little kid caught up past his bedtime.

“You’ve done your job, and you need to rest,” Wong pressed, his voice still in a whisper to avoid waking the others. “You’ve had a long day.” They walked to the bed together, approaching on the right while Tony laid on the left. He carefully opened his eyes again and rolled over, staring underneath Stephen’s bed to the feet on the other side. He kept his other arm tucked around the battery, just in case he needed to drag it with. The bed creaked down as Stephen sat, or maybe was forced to sit.

“H-help Tao, need to-… Pump, air-”

“Nic was right there with us when we switched. He’s helping her. It’s time for you to sleep, now.”

Hearing Stephen’s rough, ragged voice felt like someone was taking sandpaper to his vocal cords, rubbing them raw. Tony couldn’t help but wince. He wouldn’t be surprised if Stephen couldn’t talk for days after this. Well… if he even could talk at all. Anything but that mumbling and babbling Stephen had been doing all day.

More creaking, and Stephen’s feet disappeared. Being tucked into bed like a child. “I should just change your bandages now… It looks like you just taped it down and hoped for the best. And you tied it up? How on earth did you manage to do that? And you got tape on the skin…”

Tony barely held back the snarking remark building up in his throat. It wasn’t his fault that Stephen had been probably the worst patient possible. Though he did flinch when he heard the tape being peeled away. Yeah, he did probably fasten it too hard to the skin, but it wasn’t like he had much choice. He closed his eyes again and listened. Stephen was quiet, Wong was quiet, someone was snoring in the background and it was probably Christine of all people, and Tony let himself relax again.

Just sleep. There was no use staying awake. Sleep and peace. At least until the nightmares started. He was sure that someone would prod him awake if he got too loud. At least in his own apartment, there was no one else to disturb. Rolling over onto his side again, Tony sighed one last time and curled his arms back around the battery. He really should invest in some padding for the damn thing. Maybe next time he went to the shop-

“Strange, no-”

A heavy weight crashed against his body, pinning him effortlessly to the floor. His eyes snapped open and his first instinct was to push the attacker away, keep his battery as close as possible and try all he could to protect himself. All he managed to do was let out an unmanly squawk and try to jerk his way out from beneath the weight.

It took approximately two seconds to realize that the weight was actually Stephen Strange, realizing that when he stared into the blank blue eyes that made shivers run down his spine. “Shit, Strange, my heart is already shitty, don’t do that to me!” he squeaked, still trying to worm his way to freedom. But instead of freedom, he only had Stephen’s left arm curling just under his throat, squeezing him almost to the point of choking.

“T-the bandages are shit, I know! Let me go!”

“No, you’re going to bed,” Wong sighed, taking his time to walk around the bed and shove his arms in between their bodies to separate them. When he heaved Stephen up to get him back into bed, it almost strangled Tony with him until Stephen’s arm slipped off.

Tony gasped for air like a dying fish, pressing his hands to his throat and staring back at Stephen with wide eyes. “Jesus, Doc. I had the feeling you were all sorts of kinky, but this is _not_ the time.”

“Quiet, you’ll wake the others,” Wong hushed him, never once turning to look back at Tony. He was too busy pulling Stephen back into bed normally, pulling the blankets up and over his body and tucking him down tightly. “Sleep.”

He wasn’t sure if the order was for him or Stephen, but Tony reluctantly obeyed. He guessed they were just going to forget that happened? That Stephen rolled out of bed and attacked him? Huffing to himself, Tony fixed the blankets over his body and curled back up to the battery, though he did make sure to scoot over a few more inches from Stephen’s bed. He did not appreciate being crushed. Now, where was he? Yes, next time he went to the shop, he was going to see if they had any insulation padding. Maybe even old foam. He would cut out some pieces and-

“God dammit, Ste-”

_Thunk._

This time Stephen landed on the unforgiving floor, his left arm still reached out for Tony. Only his hand landed on Tony, this time smacking onto his side. Tony flinched, and for a second, he hoped that this was just a weird accident to happen twice. But no, Stephen’s hand clenched around his body and literally _dragged_ Tony across the floor, blankets and battery and all, and pulled him to his chest. He felt Stephen’s forehead press into between his shoulder blades, and his arm squeezed hard around him.

Ah, this again. Now he got it.

“Yeah, he was kinda doing this at the meeting,” Tony sighed, finally opening his eyes and staring up at Wong standing just a few inches away with a disapproving stare. “Hey, it’s not my fault, I’m just trying to sleep. I’m just an innocent bystander.”

“I’d assume you were filled to the brim with bullshit, but what I’m seeing tells me otherwise,” Wong muttered, his eyes scanning across their bodies. As if hearing Wong’s voice, Stephen only pushed his forehead further into his shoulders, practically burying his face into his shirt and skin. He could feel Stephen’s warm breaths through the fabric, only sending more shivers.

Well, he wasn’t cold anymore.

“I’m gonna tell you right now, he’s not gonna stop. I tried to pawn him off to a literal teddy bear of a man and he just straight up ditched him for me.” In a way, Tony felt a little good, warm even, about being chosen. Having Stephen literally crawling to be close to him, stretching and clinging like a starved animal.

He’d just appreciate it in… any other situation, honestly. Still wasn’t complaining. He’d allow this.

Wong stared down at them for the longest time, then sighed in defeat. “Alright, fine. Stephen, you can have your little imaginary friend, but you need to let him get into the bed first. Then you can have him.”

“At least invite me to fucking dinner, first,” Tony muttered under his breath, waiting to be released. When that didn’t happen, because he was sure Stephen wasn’t in the right headspace to listen anyway if he was back to clinging, Wong had to walk back over and pry them apart. Taking the momentary freedom to his advantage, Tony scooped up the battery and his blankets. He didn’t care if Stephen had more, there was no such thing as too many blankets.

The noise Stephen made when he had been stripped away was, quite frankly, adorable. He would have taken a little longer to soak in the little flutter in his chest, which was not at all appropriate given the situation he was in, had it not been for Wong clearly not willing to hold Stephen back any longer than necessary. “I’m going, damn,” Tony sighed dramatically and flung the blankets on the bed.

The moment he sank down into the mattress, it was a sweet relief for every odd ache and pain from laying on the floor for what felt like hours. Sure, the mattress was still shitty, but it was a mattress. Tony was learning to appreciate what he got. And he had a lot more to appreciate when Wong helped Stephen up, only for the other man to immediately crawl into bed next to him.

Stephen flung his good arm over his shoulders, and within seconds, was back to the position they were in on the floor. He had his head pressed into Tony’s back, arm looped around his waist and his hand pressed against his stomach, his body practically contouring to Tony’s. It was intimate in a way that had Tony’s mind spinning with possibilities, before he hushed it down. Stephen wasn’t in his right mind right now.

Stephen needed help, and that’s what Tony was willing to give. So yes, he’d allow this. For however long Stephen needed it.

Tucking the battery to his chest one more time, Tony closed his eyes and listened to Stephen’s breathing. It was still too quick, too fast, but it was better. And for the first time in weeks, sleep wasn’t that hard to find.


	9. The Fixer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is a fixer, it's what he does. Finally he has a chance to put his skills to use other than making toasters. But time is of the essence and rapidly running out.

What the hell did he do last night?

Tony didn’t like to think of himself as old, maybe a little past his prime but nothing to be ashamed about, but waking up that morning felt like he had been dumped down a mountainside and skidded to a stop, laid there for several hours, then crawled back up and did it again.

He cracked open his eyes slowly, wincing at the light that was pouring in through one of the broken-out windows of that floor. That wasn’t right. His windows weren’t broken. And… the walls were so white. It blinded him for a second, squeezing his eyes shut to hide from the light. But he had to open them up again, because he was hearing people. Voices.

His first instinct was that there were intruders. Someone was breaking into the apartments to take whatever he had, probably to pawn it off to the market for extra cards. But as soon as he jerked up and swung his head towards the noise, not only did his body ache, but another thought prodded into his mind.

This wasn’t his room. And this wasn’t his bed.

Bleary eyes scanned across the room, taking in shapes of people still tucked into their beds on his left and right, and the large wall of boxes and supplies against the opposite wall. What the hell…? Was he in some sort of mental hospital?

_Hospital._

The word rattled through his head, and so came the memories of yesterday. Stephen. Where was Stephen?

Glancing down to his right, Tony felt his chest tighten. Stephen. He wasn’t there. Numbly, he ran his hand across the blankets next to him, and they felt cold. Damn it, maybe this was a mental hospital after all. Maybe Stephen was a figment of his imagination. Maybe this was all an illusion, that there was no Stephen, there was no group meeting, he had just been talking to walls, to empty air, to-

“You sleep deeper than the dead.”

Tony looked up and squinted at the man who stood across the room. He was picking through some of the boxes, pulling out box after box of food. Wong, yes, he remembered now. That definitely wasn’t a figment of his imagination, and neither was the ache of Stephen dropping down onto him from the bed.

“I thought I was,” Tony rasped, running his fingers through his hair. He stretched, feeling far too many joints and bones pop at the sensation, and sighed. “Where’s Stephen?”

“You have three guesses, and the first two don’t count.”

Tao. Of course. Tony rubbed his hands against his face, trying to rub away whatever remained of his sleep. “How’s she doing?” Tony tried to rub away the image that floated into his mind, of Tao laid out on the bed, paler than the blankets surrounding her, with Stephen at her side.

“She made it through another night, but she still hasn’t woken up. She’s still losing blood _somewhere.”_

That didn’t sound good. Now, Tony wasn’t a medical expert. He was the one who worked with machines and circuits, not bones and tissues. It was easier to program a machine to do something than to make a body heal, but he wasn’t an idiot. Constantly losing blood faster than you can replace it would only lead to a slow, drawn out death. And if she wasn’t physically bleeding on the outside…

“Why can’t you just scan her? Like with an ultrasound?”

Wong huffed out a laugh, empty and brittle. “Our ultrasounds broke down after the first year of the war. Anything we do, we have to do by sight. She won’t survive being opened up again unless it’s to immediately stop the bleeding. We don’t have the luxury of exploratory surgery.”

Tony’s heart sank. It sounded like Tao was finished, that unless by some miracle they can operate the ultrasound again, she would perish. The war was going to take another person, not by the battlefield but by the ripple effects. He couldn’t help but think that if Tao went, Stephen was soon to follow. Judging by Wong and Christine, Stephen could have been on the brink of harming himself. If only there was a way to fix-

Had there been a wall nearby, Tony was sure he would have smashed his head straight through the plaster. He was an idiot.  
  
“Take me to it,” Tony grunted, grabbing the battery and hauling it up. “Let me look at it. I fix things, I invent things, that’s my entire thing.” No matter how little that made sense, it seemed to come across clear enough to Wong, judging by him almost dropping whatever was in his arms.

In a matter of minutes, Wong was leading Tony down hallways, past rooms of people and rooms boarded off. Tony’s mind was already spinning. He had never worked on something like an ultrasound, or medical tools at all. But if there was even the smallest chance that he could help, it was a chance he would take, if just to make him feel useful again.

“All machinery that’s broken down is stored back here. We’ve had to worry about looters stealing for parts,” Wong explained, walking through yet another pair of doors. Then they finally came to a pair of doors with a heavy chain linked in front, with just as heavy of a lock holding it shut. Pulling out a string of keys out of his pocket, Wong picked through them and unlocked it. The chain rattled loudly as it slipped to the ground, and judging by the dust, they had been locked there for a long time.

Wong threw open the doors, then grabbed at his other pocket for a small flashlight. The room was dark with no lights, probably cutting the power to this side of the hospital entirely to save the generators. The flashlight illuminated several machines, and the first thing Tony saw was an old MRI bed in the corner. Several large machines were packed into corners, some with monitors and others with pumps on the side. The amount of machines just strewn about almost had Tony's mouth watering. With all this technology, he could make… anything. _Anything._

But first, he had to make a working ultrasound.

“Alright, point it out to me, I’ll take a look. Where’s your tools?”

Silence. Tony looked back, his mouth dropping open. Wong just stared back with a stoic expression, then walked past him to find an ultrasound. Tony followed close behind. “You don’t have _tools?_ How the hell do you run this place! No wonder nothing works!”

“When your technicians get drafted in the first wave, you learn quick that tools are useless in the hands that have no knowledge of them. We use scalpels and sutures,” Wong said, his voice cold and raw. Tony swallowed back the rest of the words that had been about to pour out of his mouth. He had to remember that these doctors were just… doctors. They saved lives with the tools they had at their disposal. It just happened that their tools started breaking one by one.

“This one was the last one to keep functioning,” Wong muttered, shining the light at a particular machine. It was a tower with a monitor on top, with enough buttons and dials to make him dizzy. Why did it have to be so complicated?

Tony sucked in the air through his teeth. There was no way he was going to figure out the problem by just staring at it. He needed tools. Which meant he had to go back home.

“How long do you think she can hold out?” he asked, not daring to look at Wong. There was no need to see the harsh reality on a doctor’s face. It was probably the worst sight a human could see. No wonder Stephen lost it when he did.

“If we can continue the transfusions, two days tops.”

Squaring his shoulders, Tony took in a deep breath. “I just need one.”

* * *

The next thing Tony was going to repair after that ultrasound was going to be a car, because the walk between the hospital and the apartments was going to kill him one of these days.

He got some odd looks by the North District guards, having not returned home last night. It wasn’t quite the morning walk of shame, but there was the fact that he had to leave his favorite jacket behind because Stephen was still wearing it. He didn’t have the heart to disturb Stephen as he pumped that bag over and over, mouthing the numbers under his breath.

This was going to help, Tony told himself. He was going to be able to help, _finally._

Taking out his keys from his pocket, Tony unlocked the apartment front door. Thankfully his room was on the first floor, if just to not deal with lugging the battery up and down stairs every day of his pathetic life. Dashing through the hall with newfound strength, Tony came to his room and unlocked it. Though the second he stepped inside, he stopped.

It was so… quiet.

Tony had never noticed it before, but it was dead silent. He’d never been able to hear his neighbors, and sometimes wondered if there were even any neighbors to speak of, and he would normally relish in the peace and quiet but now… It was just lonely.

He exhaled hard, if just to create a bit of noise. He had projects scattered on almost every inch of surface space, countless tools still wedged into place and waiting to be worked with again. They were tools that he had been given, a bit of a ‘don’t talk about what happened’ token of appreciation. Tony _sure_ felt appreciated…

But now he was going to do something other than fixing old toasters to sell for ration cards. He was going to help someone. For the first time in so long, he would _help_ someone directly. Grabbing one of his toolboxes, Tony started scavenging for anything and everything he might need. Random screws, throw them in. That pair of pliers just sitting around? That too. Safety pins? Screw it, let’s take that as well. He had been so lost in his mind, already constructing, deconstructiong and reconstructing the machine in his head, that he jerked at the loud knocking at his door.

“Jesus!” he yelped, feeling his heart jerk around in his chest. “Why does everyone try to give me a fucking heart attack!”

Glaring at his front door, Tony set the box down onto the couch. He didn’t have time for anyone else. He had to get going. Tao depended on him, _Stephen_ depended on him, the entire hospital depended on him! He stomped across the apartment and grabbed the door, throwing it open. “What?” he scowled.

“Where the hell have you been?!”

Oh. Pepper.

All the anger was sucked out of his body as he stared at his friend, one of the few people he knew in this entire apartment complex. He and Pepper went way back, even before the horrid war. They had been on again, off again for a good few years, then finally settled down to friendship. After being ‘rescued,’ Tony pulled a few strings to make sure his closest friends had a place to stay. Maybe it was for his own sanity more than anything else to make sure that those people survived.

Tony’s mouth dropped open, but the explanation was a bit more complicated than a simple ‘I was busy.’ Turns out, Pepper wasn’t waiting for an explanation.

“You’ve been gone since five last night! You didn’t come in during curfew, the guards didn’t see you come in, you’ve been gone and you didn’t answer your phone and you _always_ answer your phone-”

“Damn, Pep, breathe,” Tony cut through, because hearing her run on was making his own heart start to race. “Look, something happened at the meeting and I got, uh.” How exactly was he going to explain that he went home with a stranger because he had been in a catatonic state far past recognition?

“I got sidetracked.”

Pepper’s eyes narrowed, and a chill ran through him. “And you couldn’t even have the decency to _call?”_

Another moment where Tony wanted to slam his head through plaster. Of course. His phone. That dinky little flip phone that withstood just about anything the world could throw at it, the same that was sitting in his jacket pocket. That same jacket that still rested on Stephen’s shoulders, all the way back at the hospital.

“I had to lend my jacket, I forgot my damn phone, look I really don’t have time to explain!” Tony rushed, already jumping back into the apartment and checking through the box. This would have to do. Anything else he needed would have to be grabbed from the marketplace. And just in case, Tony ran into the kitchen and opened up the pantry, grabbing at a handful of ration cards that were where food should have been. You know, the thing that ration cards usually buy.

“No, you’re not just worming out of this, you need to tell me why you didn’t come home. You didn’t go _out,_ did you?”

You didn’t get drunk off your ass, did you?

Her unsaid words hung in the air, and Tony had to take a moment to not spit back some hurtful insult. She and Rhodey were just trying to help, he told himself. But right now their helping stood in the way of saving lives. Stacking the tool box on top of his battery and shoving the ration cards into the box, his pockets, any opening he could find, Tony turned back to where Pepper was blocking the door.

Pepper’s eyes were still narrowed, but he could still see that worry. The fear that Tony hadn’t come home last night because he was just… gone. Like everyone else in their lives. Tony swallowed. “I’ll explain when I get back, but I _need_ to go. It’s important. Like, life or death important. Not my life,” he rushed to add in when Pepper paled. “It’s a friend of mine’s. He needs help.”

Pepper’s eyes softened, even as she hesitated to unblock the door. “You know I’m just worried,” she breathed, her arms firmly at her sides just like whenever she started getting emotional. Always trying to keep her emotions in check, even the softer ones.

“Trust me, I’ll be okay. I promise,” Tony murmured, lowering his voice. “I might be there for a couple days, depending on how long it takes. I have to work on a few machines and I _really_ need to get going-”

Pepper suddenly pulled him into a hug, even as it more dug the battery and toolbox into her stomach than anything else. But she still managed a soft kiss to his cheek, whispering, “Just be careful. Okay? Call me when you get there.”

“I promise,” Tony sighed, leaning into her just like always. She always knew when he would want to hug her back, even with the battery in his arms. It was as much as his current body would allow.

“And keep that thing charged,” Pepper quickly added, tapping one hand on top of the battery. “I know you just got it swapped but I know how you get when you get focused. You forget to eat and you’ll forget the battery, too.”

Tony opened his mouth to disagree.

“Don’t even try it, I know you.”

Tony closed his mouth again.

One last squeeze, and Pepper finally released him. “Be careful,” she said one last time, stepping back into the hall.

While Tony wished he could stay and chat, wished he could tell her all about the hospital, about Tao, about Wong, Christine, and most of all, Stephen, he knew there was no time. With a quick nod, Tony stepped out into the hall and locked the door behind him. And then he was off once more, toolbox and battery in hand, to hopefully save a life. He couldn’t remember the last time his feet felt so light.

* * *

“I don’t care if I have to mug a fucking soldier, I’m getting a car if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

Heaving the battery up the last few stairs, Tony didn’t bother stifling away one last groan. There was _no_ way he was walking home tonight, not a chance. He’d just have to tell Pepper that he was staying the night again. With close to an hour and a half walk between the apartments and the hospital, it was far too much walking while lugging around a heavy car battery. Unless Wong and Christine hooked him up with a scooter or _something_ with wheels, Tony wasn’t going to bother with leaving. They’d be stuck with him.

He paused outside the front doors, the image of so many people in such a small space invading him again, but as he opened the door, he saw that there were very few. Blankets and makeshift beds were still strewn about, though, so they weren’t gone for good. Probably eating. God, it had to suck cooking for that many people, even if it was something like just some pasta or oatmeal.

While the idea of getting something to eat was _extremely_ tempting since he had yet to have a bite to eat since… he didn’t actually remember, Tony knew that his first job would be getting to his phone. That meant finding Stephen. If he didn’t happen to be in the _two rooms_ Tony knew how to get to, he was out of luck.

As he walked to the stairs, he passed a few people. Some were smiling, others not, even more just quietly existing. Some held cans in their hands, and while Tony immediately thought of a sort of pop or drink, his stomach churned when he saw someone shove a fork into the can and dig out… He wasn’t sure. Maybe it was meat? _Canned_ meat? And the smell… Whatever meat it was, it wasn’t any part of an animal Tony would eat. Now he was certainly going to skip on dinner if all the hospital had was canned meat and what looked to be some uncooked vegetables.

Swallowing back bile, Tony slinked his way down the hall and decided that the first place he would look was the nurses’ room, if just to avoid having to see Tao in her current state. He was in luck, because as soon as he turned the corner, he spotted Stephen sitting on his bed. Sitting right next to him was Christine.

She currently had a plate across her lap, with that canned _whatever_ dumped across. She was holding one spoon up to Stephen’s lips, murmuring to him in what Tony guessed was a prompt to eat. But Stephen wasn’t moving, once again not listening. His eyes were blank and he just stared at the floor.

It was the first time Tony had seen Stephen cleaned up of all the blood, at least in daylight. The fluid had masked most of Stephen’s face, but now he could clearly see the dark circles under his eyes, his pale skin, his cheekbones jutting out… It only pushed Tony to move faster. He needed Stephen to snap back into himself before he could let his body waste away even more.

“Do you mind grabbing my phone out of the jacket? Front left pocket,” Tony asked, nodding to Stephen. “Then I need you and Wong to let me back into the storage room.”

Christine almost jumped at his voice, dropping the spoon back onto her plate as if trying to hide what she had been attempting. Perhaps she just didn’t want anyone else to see Stephen like this, a literal child who could do nothing but pump an oxygen bag. Now he couldn’t even do that, probably being told to rest. “Oh, yes, Wong told me about your little project,” she scrambled, setting the plate to the side. “I’m not sure how much you can salvage, we’ve lost hope on those machines a long time ago.”

“Well, that’s because you didn’t have me around to fix it,” Tony grinned back in any attempt to lighten the mood. It didn’t work.

Christine carefully patted Stephen’s left side, feeling the phone inside the pocket. Though as she fished it out, she paused. “I’ve never seen Stephen attach himself to someone before. Especially now. The last person I can think of is Tao.” She glanced up at Tony from the corner of her eye, looking him up and down, inspecting him. “You do realize that if you hurt him, he has an entire hospital of people willing to kill for him.”

The threat was sudden and Tony shivered under her stare. “But I can see why he chose you,” she added, glancing back to Stephen. The other man still had not made a move, not even when Tony spoke. Perhaps he was in some stage of mental sleep. “Before all this, I could see that there was something different. He never talked about you by name, but he said it was… strange to see people with different backgrounds all together to get better. Gave him a little hope. I just hope that’s not gone now.”

Hope. It was all they could cling to right now. Looking at Stephen right now, Tony could barely scrape up any hope at all.

Christine pulled the phone out and wordlessly held it out. It took some work to balance the battery and the toolbox on one arm, but he managed to grab it and set it atop the mess in his arms. “You said he never called me by name. How do you know it was me?”

“He called you Douchebag.”

“Ah, makes sense.”

At least those little nicknames had some effect on Stephen after all. Tony stepped back and nodded towards the door. “I don’t think he’ll be moving anytime soon. He should be fine for us to go get started.”

Christine nodded and stood up, though she made sure to nudge the plate to Stephen’s side just in case he suddenly was interested in eating. It won’t happen, but at least the thought was there. They were joined in the hall by Wong, and after shutting the door and locking it behind them, they left.

The walk was silent, anxiousness hanging in the air. All three of them knew that this was the only chance Tao had left, and even then she could still die. It was a race against time and against Tao’s failing health. It didn’t need to be stated aloud that it was also a race to save whatever was left of Stephen’s sanity.

Wong unlocked the door again and this time flicked on the lights. “I have a backup generator going, it will allow us to test the machine and give you light to work.”

“Good,” Tony sighed, walking up to the machine. With a grunt, he dropped the battery and toolbox down beside it and opened the box. “I’m just going to crack it open quick, see if it’s anything simple…” Kneeling down beside the machine, Tony pulled out a screwdriver and started removing screws one at a time. By the time he pulled off the lid, he could already smell that something had burned inside.

“Alright, I’m guessing overheating,” Tony hummed, grabbing a small flashlight and shining it inside. “Yeah, wires are all melted together. Might be a problem with the coolant that let it overheat.” Leaning in closer, Tony shined the light up and down the inside of the machine. While it wasn’t the heart of the machine, he knew that if something happened to the actual computer part, there would be little chance of finding replacements just lying around. He could always frankenstein together a machine out of the other parts, but there wasn’t going to be time for that.

Start with the immediate problem and go from there.

“I’m gonna need one of you guys to run to the marketplace and grab me a few things.”

“Did you want to write down what you need or-”

“No, you write down what I say so you can read it. I don’t want shit getting muddied up because you can’t read my handwriting.” And here Tony had thought that doctors had the worst handwriting. Perhaps it’s because his hands were so used to being in the hearts of machinery that delicacy and precision was unneeded.

As Wong retrieved some paper and a pen, Tony continued to poke around inside the machine. There were cobwebs from disuse, but he was sure that was true for all the machines inside. If he could get this thing to work, though… Then that meant there was an entire playground of machines to tinker with. His heart skipped in his chest at the thought, but he contained it quickly. Remember why he was doing this in the first place. For Tao and Stephen.

Once Wong returned, Tony started listing off parts and pieces. Judging by how Wong asked several times how to spell certain words, both he and Christine were clueless to what he was talking about. That’s alright, though. As long as they went to the right people, they’d know exactly what Tony needed.

“In my toolbox, there’s a shit ton of ration cards. Just take ‘em.”

Tony was met with silence, and he blinked. Glancing back over his shoulder, he blinked again. Christine and Wong were looking at him like he had lost his head and it was now rolling around on the floor babbling satanic rituals.

“What?”

“You just want us to _take_ your ration cards?” Christine breathed, staring at the box. Wong was hesitantly walking forward, as if he expected Tony to lash out at any given point.

“Yeah, they’re pretty much useless to me,” Tony said, raising an eyebrow. “You guys should get plenty because you’re a hospital, right?”

Uncomfortable silence. The looks on their faces said what their lips couldn’t bear to admit. Frowning, Tony nudged the box with his foot closer to Wong. “Take ‘em. I have plenty at home.”

He turned away when Wong finally opened the box, but he could hear Christine’s startled gasp. Was it really that bad here? He only brought a couple dozen. Maybe more, he didn’t really care. He just had books of them laying around. There just wasn’t much Tony needed anymore to spend them on. And they just kept _giving_ them to him, anyway…

“Why on earth do you have so many?” Christine asked, her voice quiet.

“Uh,” Tony started, refusing to turn back. He leaned back into the machine, resuming his search inside. “I forget to eat a lot. So they just sit around. Haven’t needed to use them.”

More silence. A prickle ran up his back, but Tony tried his best to ignore it. “Go to the Chiaki brothers. They know their shit,” he said, eager to get off this conversation as soon as possible. When there still wasn’t an answer, Tony gritted his teeth together. “Come on, we got a doc to save!”

That got them moving, at least. Tony only looked back once he was sure they were on their way out. He let out the breath he didn’t know he had been holding and flopped onto his back. Great, now apparently his ration cards were making people suspicious of him. But why? Staring up at the ceiling, he finally reached over and dragged his phone off the battery. Might as well make good on his promise while he had the peace and quiet.

Opening the phone, Tony speeddialed Pepper and held the phone to his ear. He closed his eyes and heard it ring just once before it was picked up.  
  
 _“Tell me everything.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soon, there may be some art added to these chapters, made by the wonderful Musiusi! So we will be sure to post in the notes when we update if art has been added to previous chapters, keep an eye out!


	10. Day Four of the End of the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world is consumed by fire and death.  
> Or maybe it's not.  
> Maybe he's safe.  
> Maybe he's not.  
> Maybe the world has ended.  
> Maybe it's only begun.

Everything was… slow. It was quiet. Muffled. Noise just couldn’t reach his ears. Shapes passed to and fro like shadows, while he stayed motionless. He could not move. He could not speak. He was trapped in this body, unable to control the empty shell.

When sound started drifting in, he immediately wished to rip his eardrums out and throw them to the crows. The crying. Gasping for air. Begs for death. Over and over, an unending tide of misery and torment as punishment for being alive. His own lips wouldn’t let a sound pass through them, though. He had no right to scream, to whine, to beg. Because he had failed.

And now he will suffer.

His blinked, and his eyes finally saw for what felt like the first time. Shapes were falling into focus, and he stared. This was the hospital. Their base.

He wasn’t supposed to be here.

No, this was wrong. He shook his head, trying to shake the images back into what he knew he should be seeing. He should be in that tent. There were holes in the roof. They had been burned through. Sheets were torn down, entire walls missing… Staring out into the street. That street.

And the bodies.

So many bodies.

He took in a breath, hesitant. No garlic. No rot. This wasn’t right. He could smell _nothing._  

Something was wrong.

He lurched to his feet, and his vision swirled. No, it was still there. There were the bodies out on the street. He could count them through the gap in the canvas wall. He knew their names. He knew their faces. But their faces were gone. Just… flesh. Red and white, gaping holes, nothing left. Flesh. That reminded him.

Taking in one more scentless breath, he finally looked down to his right arm.

Blood crusted across the top layer of whatever remained, only cracking open for clear liquid and pus. Charred black was still flaking off bit by bit, and he could name the muscles he could see in his head. He was a living anatomy lesson. But he couldn’t feel the horrible, agonizing pain. Just a dull throb. Maybe he was finally dying.

He didn’t want to die alone.

His arm hung uselessly at his side, blood and fluids dripping off of his remaining fingers and staining the dirt. Tao would want him to put on bandages, why didn’t he have bandages? Were they out already? The others won’t stand a chance if they had ran out of their supply. Tao had called for reinforcements and more doctors, but why weren’t they coming?

Each step was heavy, and his vision continued to blur. Sometimes he was surrounded with white walls, white floors, doorways and tile. But then it would bleed back to the tents. There were no spare beds, every one of them was filled. He stared as some of the few unharmed civilians were called to one bed, and with thick gloves, grabbed onto a body and pulled it off. They took the body, one he could barely tell was human, and carried it away. Within minutes, someone else was in the bed, and the body was abandoned outside with the rest.

There was no time for funerals, for burial, even for burning the bodies. The ones who died where they stood in the street still remained, while those who were given a longer death were piled up. Everyone tried to ignore the sight. Everyone wanted to pretend that it wasn’t there. That the civilians, soldiers, _doctors_ they had been so close to were not reduced to a mass of burned limbs and flesh.

He wandered, because he could find no one he wanted to see. His ears echoed with the cries of the dying. He couldn’t muster up a sound. His lungs burned from the gas, inhaling just enough to torture but not enough to kill. Water only inflamed the burn, eating away at the oxygen it was given. Do not give them water, they will die. Save the water for the living.

Then the world flickered back. He was in front of a door. He didn’t know why. It was just there. Looking back, Stephen could see the drips from his arm, burning into the ground like acid. He was toxic. He would burn whatever he touched. But he still had his left hand.

He swallowed, rubbing his hand across his shirt in any attempt to wipe it clean of the death and suffering. Just do it. Deal with the consequences later. He wouldn’t live long enough to see them. He rested his good hand onto the knob and turned it slowly. As soon as he opened it a crack, the voices started feeding through.

“-reason why you have this many ration cards?”

Christine. She wasn’t hurt. She had been sleeping, resting off a long night. She woke up to the screams and the fire.

“If these are fraudulent, we will not hesitate-”

Wong. Unharmed. He had been in the middle of talking with Tao.

Tao.

Where was Tao.

She was hurt.

Because of him.

He pushed open the door and stared into the room, and everything started to melt again. Burned tent walls. Tile floors. Christine and Wong in blood stained scrubs. Machines. Fire.

A body on the floor. More fire. Burning flesh. Holes. Exposed tissue, organs and bone. Death.

Then nothing. Just a man.

The breath he took in shuddered in his chest, but there was still no smell of garlic or the rot. At that same moment, Christine and Wong turned to him, eyes wide. Of course, they would not expect him to have the strength to get out of bed. He was dying. The infection was ravaging his body, sapping away his strength. This was just one last burst before it all collapsed.

“Stephen-” Christine gasped, then darted forward.

Foolish. He staggered back, his left hand twitching where it hovered over his arm. He would burn her. Hurt her. His back bumped into the wall, but the movement was enough to ward her off. She stopped just a foot away, arms still outstretched. It was far enough away. He worried that even his breath still carried the gas, the toxins. He was practically radioactive.

Swallowing hurt, but he tried to keep whatever moisture he could. He would need another IV soon enough to keep him from dehydrating. Why wasn’t he on one now? Or did they finally give up? It was for the best, honestly. Save the supplies. Even if there were fewer and fewer people that needed them by the hour.

“H-h…” His breath rasped hard, but it made sound. Actual sound. Swallowing one more time only made everything feel that much more raw and scratchy, and he almost doubled over with a coughing fit. Get it out, get it out. The toxic air. But he shouldn’t, not around the healthy. They will burn with him. But Christine wouldn’t move.

“Stephen, look at me,” Christine said, still so close.

He may not have a lot of time. What was it that he needed to do? What did he need to know before he died? His back bumped into the wall, and he slumped against it for whatever support he could find. The sound of the blood and pus dripping down his arm echoed in his head, plop, plop, plop. Tiny drips. Whatever was left of his arm hopefully would remain. But there was still so much dead skin, he could just grab a handful and start peeling.

There was sound outside of his mind, someone moving. He couldn’t pull his eyes up to see who. His body was too weak. He was dying. The infection. He was losing.

“Steph, do you need water? You look like shit.”

_“N-no!”_

The sound that escaped his throat jolted even himself. He can speak. Now what? “B-burns… others need more,” he rasped. Don’t give water to the dying. It will kill them. Don’t give water to him. He was already dying.

His eyes fluttered open, he hadn’t realized that they had closed. The room was so blurry. Machines. Three people. Burnt walls. Blood on the ground. He could see it all from the corner of his eye, and they were all staring at him. Even the third man. Who was he? A soldier? Did help finally come?

It had to be. Help was coming. But it was too late for him. The others, though. Save the others.

His eyes locked onto the stranger’s, where they looked at him with bewilderment. He must not have seen the others. Seen the death. The poor soul. “Where are they?” he asked, his voice crackling like the fire. “Did you find them? T-they came from… from the north.” From the north. That’s all he knew. 

That’s where the- “p-plane came from. Flew low. Too-” low. Too low. Then they dropped the shells. Everything- “went white, then the scr-”eaming. The patients. Were they- “still alive? G-gabby, is she, her mother, Thomas, he was-” hit on his back. So many holes. So much blood. I need- “to help, where are they, help them, you have-” to help them, I can’t help them, I’m- “going to die. M-my arm…”

No, silence. Don’t complain. He had no right to complain. His vision blurred, and the stranger was closer. Too close. He didn’t understand. He was- “going to burn. Please. Don’t-” touch me. 

“Strange.”

We need- “a quarantine. Water. We need water to-” wash off the burns. Still burning. There’s still smoke. The- “smoke’s going to-” kill the weakest first. We- “lost doctors, please, need more supplies, send-” more supplies, we can’t- “help, they’re dying, they’re-” all dying, please, just, please, I- 

_“Strange.”_

“-can’t help them, my arm, my-” hand, my fingers, they burn, everyone’s- “burning, don’t touch them, you’ll-” burn with them, just like “Tao, she’s, I- I- burned, she’s-”

_“Stephen!”_

Wong’s words shattered Stephen’s rambling, his voice only going faster and faster, until it ground to a halt. It didn’t stop Tony’s mind as it spun, forced to take everything in at once.

Stephen was crouched against the wall, his eyes never looking away from Tony, but they were… It was like Stephen could see him, but there was still a layer of film overtop his vision. The Stephen that was in front of him wasn’t the one talking. His eyes were blinking rapidly, the pale blues in a near constant state of disorientation. This still wasn’t Stephen. Not his Stephen.

Wong stepped forward, placing himself in between Stephen and Tony. Probably for the best, because Tony had been moments away from bolting across the room and doing something he would absolutely regret. The other man waved his hand slowly over Stephen’s face, waiting until his eyes started tracking the movement.

“Tao is fine.”

Tony blinked at Wong’s declaration. Were they going to just _pretend_ that Tao wasn’t fighting for her life? Slowly bleeding out, slipping away by the second-

“She was not burned severely. She’s with the patients,” Wong finished smoothly, leaving no room for Stephen to question him.

There were those words again. Burning. Patients. Whatever Stephen had been rambling on about, Wong knew what he was saying. Christine must as well, as she was nodding along with Wong.

“You must be tired. How is your arm?” Christine asked, her voice careful and soft like she was talking to a child. Stephen’s eyes looked to her, and his left hand twitched over his right arm again. It had been hovering over it constantly, the healthy hand a stark comparison to the other. Stephen said that it was burning, that he was in pain, but… Aside from its normal gruesome appearance, there was nothing wrong.

Stephen mumbled something Tony couldn’t catch, but made Christine flinch. “You just need to rest. You’re going to be okay.” The haunted look in Stephen’s blurry gaze told a far different story. But then he nodded, slow and unsteady, and that was enough for Christine. She walked to the door, keeping her eyes on Stephen at all times, and pushed it open. “Let’s go back to bed. I’ll stay with you until you sleep.”

“T-the patients-”

“Everything is fine. He brought doctors. Everyone is going to be fine.”

A full body shudder ran through Stephen, and Wong instinctually reached out to grab him in case he fell. But Stephen managed to catch himself, if just barely. “T-they’re fine. G-Gabby. Thomas. Jennifer-”

“All of them.”

Tony’s throat tightened at the pure relief that flooded over Stephen, and for the first time, he saw Stephen smile. An actual smile. It almost made his heart stop at the sight, and for a split second, Tony wanted nothing more than to believe that he had done exactly as Christine said.

But he hadn’t. And the way Stephen looked at him with such joy and gratitude, it just made his heart sink again. The smile he gave back was empty, and he hoped Stephen would not notice the difference. Just like Tony pretended he didn’t notice the tears in Stephen’s eyes. Though what almost broke Tony was the rush of ‘thank you’s that poured out of Stephen’s lips.

 

 

Tony held on just barely, if just because he stuck his head right back into the ultrasound machine. It didn’t stop his eyes from burning, and the wires started to blur together. No, get a hold of himself. There wasn’t time for this. There was nothing he could do to change the past. He needed to focus on what he was doing. Something that could change the future for the better. Something to save the lives that were still savable.

The door clicked closed and silence resumed. Tony took in a deep breath and steadied himself again. Focus.

“He isn’t talking about… this time, is he?”

Tony couldn’t focus when there was a mystery. It was just in his nature. He looked back over his shoulder and saw Wong still standing by the door like he was waiting for Stephen to come running back at any moment.

“No, he is not. But that’s not what we’re going to talk about right now.” Wong turned his head back to him, and Tony stiffened under his powerful glare. “We’re going to discuss why you have so many ration cards, and that interruption will not change that. Just delayed until Christine returns.”

Dammit.

Heaving a sigh, Tony flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Now he hoped that Stephen gave Christine a rough time. Maybe he could go back to his clinging phase and she’d never come back. Tony just stared into the open panel of the machine, connecting wires in his mind and planning his next phase. The fried wiring was replaced, and now he had to make sure everything was connected properly. He had yet to turn it on. His biggest fear was that there was something other than the overheating that caused the machine to fail.

He missed Google. He missed having all the answers at his fingertips. The world in the palm of his hands with just a couple pokes at a screen. Now, his flip phone was a rarity that many would kill to obtain.

Tony rubbed his hands against his face, trying to scrub away the last five minutes from his memory. If he could get the ultrasound done tonight, if he could get Tao help, then Stephen had to come back around. Had to. All he needed was to see his mentor safe and sound.

The door opened again and Tony lifted his head up from the floor. Christine’s face was carefully blank, and she closed the door behind her.

“He’s at day four,” Christine said, but that was all she said. No other explanation. Tony didn’t feel like he wanted one, to be perfectly honest. He dropped his head back down onto the floor and closed his eyes. Any second now…

A blinding light forced his eyes open, only for Tony to hiss and throw up his hands against the beam. The owner of said light was Wong, shining the flashlight Tony had been using just minutes before directly into his eyes. But that wasn’t who he saw.

Because for a split second, he was _there._ Under the hot lights in that horrid cave. Their words, all different languages, raking through his head. His chest tightened and ached. But he wasn’t there. He knew he wasn’t. Because he had escaped. He was not bound to that chair. He was free.

The sudden flash left his body in a cold sweat, but it was better than most times. And the light had been taken away.

“A little too dramatic,” Christine sighed in the background, turning off the flashlight she had snatched away from Wong. “We want to ask some questions. That’s all. We need to make sure that it’s safe for you to be here.”

“And why wouldn’t it be?” Tony grunted, blinking away the spots in his eyes. His chest was still aching hard, his breath rapid, but he just had to remember that he was safe. He was no longer in the cave. He was free. That’s all he needed.

“You walked into this hospital with _books_ of ration cards.” Christine circled Tony, staring down at the toolbox and opening it up. Sure enough, beneath about three or four different tools, were his books of ration cards. A few had some ripped out, but for the most part, they were filled.

“Well, yeah? Getting parts for shit like this is fucking expensive,” Tony grunted, narrowing his eyes up at Christine. What was she getting on about? “Wasn’t my fault that the vendors like Tao enough to not take them.”

“That’s not the point,” Christine groaned, and she grabbed a wad of the cards. She held them out to Tony, as if the sight of them would connect the dots. They didn’t.

“Then what _is_ the point? I need to get back to working on this damn thing!” Tony scoffed, breaking eye contact to stare back into the machine. He just needed to focus on his work, nothing else. Nothing else. Not on the people who were starting to get a little too close, with their narrowed eyes and accusatory words, that flashlight still balanced in her palm, the cards almost shoved into his face. Just-

“This one book could feed this entire hospital _fresh meat_ for _two weeks._ And this isn’t even the biggest stack. What did you do to get this many cards? Are they stolen? Fraud? Are you one of the merchants of death? Are-”

“No!”

Tony’s shout echoed through the room, and his heart pounded. No, he wasn’t. No. The panic lurched up his throat, but he shoved it back down. No, he was safe. He wasn’t in the cave. He wasn’t one of the merchants of death. He wasn’t, no, he’s safe, he’s not-

“Then _where?”_ Wong demanded, his face just inches away.

Tony’s hand jerked and grabbed onto the screwdriver, but something forced his hand down. He twitched against the invisible restraint. Get them away.

“You just can’t collect this much by ‘forgetting to eat.’ So how?” Christine added, so much closer. Too close. Their eyes. The panic was winning, it was winning, his heart was racing, about to beat out of his chest, he just needed to _get away!_

His hand tightened on the screwdriver. Defend himself. Get them away. He was free, he wasn’t in the cave, he could fight, he could-

A scream echoed through the hall, and the pressure lifted. The two jerked away from him, already rushing to the doorway, the interrogation abandoned. It left Tony struggling for breath, his other hand clenched against his chest. He was safe. He was out of the cave. 

Tony forced in a shaky breath, then another. He was safe. He was free. He could move, he could breathe, he could speak, he could be silent. But someone else needed help. Someone was still in the cave. 

Swallowing down the sensations trying to burst out of him, Tony scooped up his battery and stumbled up to his feet. The scream came again, drawn out into a sob. It sounded like pure anguish. As he ran out into the hall, the noise smacked him in the face. Panic. Just… panic.

There was one voice above the rest, though. And as he ran to the stairs leading to the entrance of the hospital, he heard the words.

_“They’re dead! They’re all dead!”_

When Tony came to the bottom floor, he expected blood. He expected piles of bodies, all murdered in their sleep. He expected to see chaos as doctors feverishly tried to save lives, but what he got… was not that. He got a crowd of people, all surrounding _something._

That’s when he realized who was screaming. 

Stephen.

Pushing through the crowd, Tony struggled to find him. There were so many people. Others were shouting, their words lost to Stephen’s cries of death and burning, devolving rapidly. It wasn’t until he heard a child starting to cry that Tony finally broke through the crowd.

Stephen was kneeling on the ground in a heap, his arms clenching tight around what had to be a child no older than five. The kid was crying, struggling against Stephen’s grasp and clawing at his arms for any escape, but Stephen wouldn’t let go. He was sobbing, holding the child to his chest, his body shaking unlike anything Tony had seen before.

Christine knelt down beside Stephen, her voice low as she tried to pry away Stephen’s arms, but whatever she was saying was lost to him. Instead, Stephen poured out his grief, his agony and his sorrow in hard sobs that may have been trapped inside of him for far too long. He was begging, pleading for anyone, anything to help them. That he was sorry he wasn’t good enough. That he couldn’t save them.

That’s when Stephen raised his head just enough and stared directly at Tony. His eyes were wide, blank and void of life. It was like he was staring into a dead man. Stephen’s arms released the frantic child and he staggered up, crossing the distance between them in a split second.

“You said you saved them!” Stephen howled, his voice cracking under his grief, and even as he stared right into Tony’s eyes, there was still nothing inside. Empty and hollow. Stephen reached out and grabbed onto Tony’s shirt, yanking him into the space surrounding him. “You said you brought help! Why didn’t you _help them?!”_

Stephen’s hands clenched into his shirt, even his right hand managing enough strength to drag him closer until they were face to face. Tears were still streaming down Stephen’s face, dripping onto Tony’s shirt. “You promised! You said you’d save them! You _promised!”_

The words repeated over and over, even as hands grabbed at Stephen, trying to pull him off of Tony. But all Tony could do was stare, his mouth hanging open with no explanation for his failures, and tears starting to slide down his own cheeks. Why didn’t he save them? Why? _Why?_

But then the words stopped, and Stephen just stared. His breathing was labored, face pale and his grip started to tremble. _“Why?”_ was all he croaked out until whatever light was within his eyes faded back out again. It was a slow collapse, his hands dragging down Tony’s shirt and the only support he had as he sank down to the floor, crumpling down onto his knees. There he stayed, huddled and his hands grasping at Tony’s pants, his head hanging and staring at the floor.

It became much too quiet, as if a single noise would send Stephen into another fit, but he was silent. He was shutting back down. Whatever he had seen had destroyed whatever sanity Stephen had scraped back together.

Tony didn’t think, he just moved. He sank down beside Stephen without a second thought and dropped the battery between them. It let him wrap his arms tight around Stephen’s motionless body, pulling him in close.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the tears falling without his permission. Stephen didn’t move. He may not be listening anymore. He may be gone for good. And Tony didn’t stop it.

_“I’m so sorry.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed chapter 10 bonus art! :D and thanks for all the kudos and comments! Everytime we receive one it makes our day, we love to read all your thoughts <3
> 
> Check out our tumblrs at Tumblr and Tumblr
> 
> ~Musiusi


	11. One More Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just one more night. That's all Tao has to last. One more night. Then, she can be saved.
> 
> So they hoped.

Tony stared inside the machine, his tools scattered within arms reach. Wires. So many wires. He’d stripped the wires to make sure they were connected properly and he needed electrical tape to prevent another overheating. He had half a roll left, but it was just a little too far away from his reach. Tony couldn’t will his body to move.

He dropped his hand to his chest, where the fabric was still damp from Stephen’s tears. Had he the chance, Tony would have sat there forever, sitting in the middle of the hospital holding Stephen. But there was work to be done. Work that he couldn’t will his body to do.

His eyes burned, even after the tears had dried so long ago. He could still feel them on his cheeks. They felt carved into his skin, like the wounds that had been carved into his heart when Stephen had been stripped from his arms. Stephen had still reached out for him, trying to tear his way back, but then he… gave up. Stephen let himself be led away by someone, never making a sound or fighting against it. Just followed.

Shit, no he couldn’t cry, there wasn’t time for it. Even as his chest ached, Tony cleared his throat. That had to do it. Just ignore the pain. There was no reason to why it should hurt this much. It wasn’t his fault. Someone should have been watching Stephen, made sure he didn’t wander off, and it wasn’t his fault to whatever Stephen was seeing. It just wasn’t his fault.

So why did it still hurt?

Focus. He needed to focus on the wires. He dragged the roll of tape back to his side and tore off a strip with his teeth. Focus on what he was doing. After the wires, he needed to check the power supply. Make sure the battery still had some juice. Then the monitor. Then, most importantly, the wand itself. That was what they needed more than anything else. Make sure they could see what they were doing. Find the bleeding. Tao wasn’t going to last very long. They were running out of blood to use.

Someone had to suck up the free blood from inside her body, inserting a tube and draining it into a bucket. So much blood. And she was still so pale. How much longer until her body gives out? Her thin, frail body. What had been cut? What organs could be destroyed?

Dammit, no he needed to _focus._

He was so close to being done. Just a few more tests. A few replacement parts. That’s it. Then they could save Tao.

The door behind him opened, but Tony didn’t look back. He was focused. Had to be focused. But his focus kept slipping away, eluding him, and it wasn’t right, and why was he still hurting? He had no reason to hurt!

“I wish you didn’t have to see that.”

“Yeah,” Tony scoffed, “a bit late for that. Maybe if someone had been _with him?”_

Stop it, nothing was going to be accomplished by accusations and complaining. He bit onto his bottom lip and stared into the machine again. Christine sat a few feet away, directly to his right. She was watching him. Waiting.

“Are you waiting for me to finish this before you kick me out? I mean, it’s past curfew. Perfect time to get rid of me,” Tony scowled, that foul attitude not budging an inch. Here he was, trying to help them, _for free,_ and they’ll probably throw him out once he was done. How was he supposed to explain away that… whatever had happened. Tony was sure that if Stephen's episode hadn’t happened, someone would have a screwdriver shoved into their eyesocket.

Christine sighed softly. “Look, we’re sorry. I know we went a bit too harsh on the whole interrogation thing, but we are the ones who have to protect this place. We don’t have security, guards, soldiers, no one. It’s just us.” She paused. “You already saw what happens when someone slips through the cracks.”

Someone dies. Or at least, is currently dying.

She cleared her throat through the awkward pause. “That’s why we can’t just let anyone in so deep. Sheltering a merchant of death would be-”

“Stop.” Tony cut through, raising one hand to stop her midsentence. “Just stop. I don’t want to hear that name again.”

More silence, warranted silence this time. He let her stew in her own thoughts as he shifted closer to the machine. The tape was done. He just had to plug it in and see if it turns on or not. The strength to get up, though, was failing him.

“Alright,” Christine said, her voice as tired as Tony’s body. “Just, why did you get so nervous? The moment we say _that name,_ you start… It’s just suspicious.”

Of course it was. If Tony could manage an outside perspective, he could absolutely see that having someone freak out over the mention of the underground world would look suspicious. But Tony didn’t really care enough to put that much thought into it. He just wanted to be done.

Tony set down the tape and rolled it between his hands. He stared at the black roll moving past and forth as he spoke. “The whole… interrogation method, okay? I just don’t work well under that. It just…” Why wasn’t this easy to talk about? After all these groups he had been going to, it shouldn’t be this hard. “It’s something from the war, you know. PTSD. Like about half the people in this damn place.”

Maybe that was unnecessary, but it was also true. Half the world had to be fucked up at this point. Maybe that’s why it was taking so long to recover. Without a stable mind, there would be no stable society. “Look, just ask me stuff like a normal human being and I’ll talk about whatever you want. Just ask normally. Got it?”

“I believe I can do that.”

“Good.”

Tony rolled the tape towards Christine, who caught it before it could roll past. He was done with the tape. His attention went to the toolbox still sitting with the lid open, books of ration cards spilling out. Any moment now, she was going to bring them up. Any moment…

“So why do you have all those ration cards?”

There we go.

Now that Tony actually had some time to sit down and think through what he wanted to say, the answer came easy. “My father was part of the government. Part of security and all that. In exchange for his assistance during the war, he said that the government had to provide for me. Kinda like a; If I die doing this shitty thing you’re making me do, take care of my kid for me. So he died doing the shitty thing they made him do, and now I get ration cards sent to me like they’re going out of business.”

Now if only a single fraction of his father would be true to that story.

“What did he do?”

“He was high in the military. I still don’t even know what they made him do. Top secret shit. All I know was that a while back, I had some government hot shot show up at my doorstep and draw out a contract for my life support.” Was it believable? If anyone knew anything about Tony Stark, fuck no. To a perfect stranger? Passable.

Christine reached forward and plucked one of the books out of the toolbox. She flipped through them, letting them run against her fingertips like they were a stack of cards. “So you say,” she hummed, inspecting the book even deeper. “Did they think you had a family to support?”

“Fuck if I knew. I’m still pissed they’re giving me a hospital’s worth of ration cards when you guys are barely making ends meet.”

The fiddling paused, and the book was set back down into the toolbox. “When it comes to the hierarchy of these places, hospitals fall much lower than anyone really expects. Teach someone to sew up a wound, you’re practically a doctor. But to a civilian, a hospital is the only place that’s safe. Supposed to be safe.”

The words she added at the end made Tony finally turned his head to look at her. His brows knit together as he studied her expression. Blank. Carefully poised. She knew exactly what she said and the seeds she had planted. She met his gaze without fear or hesitation, and in that moment, there had to be some sort of an agreement. She would hold her secrets, and he would hold his. And that’s when she offered the olive branch.

It was in the form of a granola bar, held out to him. “You haven’t eaten. It’s not the best, but it’s all we have that tastes semi-decent.”

“I’ve seen,” Tony muttered, looking down at the bar. There was the familiar sting to his hands, and he rubbed his thumb against his palm out of habit. “Just set it down, I’ll take a bite in a sec.”

She did, and she didn’t ask questions. Good, because Tony wouldn’t give answers. God knows what would have happened if this same conversation would have come between him and Wong. At least now he had someone who was lucid on his side in this hospital.

Time passed smoothly after that. Christine got them some coffee, and it wasn't quite as shitty as the group therapy coffee. Tony are, they complained about the food, ate some more, and worked. If Tony needed something, Christine sat it down next to him for him to grab. Every time she did, though, he felt like he was back in the meeting with the wall of cups Stephen had gathered for him.

They worked into the night, where they finally plugged in the machine only to get a blank screen. Some more tinkering, and it was fuzzy. Something at least was coming through. It gave Tony a chance to take a breather while Christine turned knobs and switches, her focus strictly on the screen. He laid on the floor and stared at the ceiling, feeling the life drain out of his body and pool onto the floor like blood.

He was so tired. When was the last time he felt this tired? Emotionally, physically, spiritually, psychologically, any way he could possibly be, exhausted. Tony closed his eyes and rested his head back onto the cool tiles, letting his breath escape in a huff. It was far past curfew, and he already had given a call to Pepper while working alone, but all he wanted to do was go home. Back into his own bed, his own blankets and pillows, curl up and never come back out.

But he knew that even if it wasn’t because of the curfew, Tony wouldn’t be able to leave. Not when he knew Stephen was still… However he was. Whatever you’d say to define _that._ Empty? Broken? Both? Neither? Either way, he wouldn’t be able to sleep not knowing if Stephen was going to ever be back to Stephen.

“Tony! Tony, get up! I need you!”

Christine had grabbed at Tony’s arm, wrenching him off the floor without a second thought. “Watch it! Jesus!” Tony yelped, only just grabbing the battery and struggling to get to his feet, but before he even had the chance, Christine dropped him back onto the floor.

“Stay there, and take off your shirt.”

 _“What?!”_ Tony squeaked, immediately fisting his hands into his shirt. While yes, Christine was a lovely woman, and yes she did get him dinner, that still didn’t mean-

Then she picked up the ultrasound wand, and realization dawned on him. “Oh! Oh, shit, yeah, uh,” he stammered, already peeling back his shirt. While he wasn’t sure if this was the only way to test out an ultrasound, it made sense that it was the clearest way. Tao had been stabbed in the stomach, that much he knew. So of course that’s where Christine would test it.

His hands brushed against the cords attached to his chest, and almost immediately, he paused. “Will just the stomach work?” he asked, glancing up at her from the corner of his eye. He motioned lazily to the battery now sitting beside him. “The rest is kinda… Out of business right now."

Christine’s finger tapped onto the wand, and while for a moment she seemed curious to get a closer look, she nodded.

Tony bit back a sigh of relief and carried on, pulling his shirt just high enough to expose his stomach. While he knew he wasn’t in the greatest shape, he certainly wouldn’t be shy. “At least you _did_ invite me to dinner first, such a classy lady,” Tony teased, flashing a grin in her direction.

Christine still didn’t respond, still turning dials and plugging away at buttons. “No time for the gel, I don’t even think we have any,” she muttered to herself.

“Shit, no lube? Well-”

“Lay down flat.”

So much for that. Rolling his eyes, Tony did as she said, even when he was laying on the _literal_ floor rather than some bench or a chair, but she soon stooped down to his level. “Hold still,” she said, entirely focused on her work. While she moved her hand to nudge away at the wires, Tony snatched them out of her reach.

“That’s literally my heart you’re messing with, not on the first date,” Tony grunted, doing his best to tuck away the cords to where they were out of her reach. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally be unplugged. Christine raised an eyebrow, but she soon resumed her preparation and pressed the wand to his stomach without any other warning.

“Shit, it’s cold!” Tony squeaked, his body immediately tensing up.

“Yeah, yeah, all bark, no bite,” Christine sassed back, her eyes flicking back up to the screen. Tony bit his bottom lip to hold back anymore complaints. He could see shapes on the screen. While Tony had no idea exactly what they were, the way Christine was moving the wand (and digging it into his stomach) made it seem like she knew what she was doing.

She squinted up at the screen, lifting the wand and pressing it down somewhere else. To be honest, the silence was unnerving. Almost like Tony _actually_ was having an ultrasound done for his health.

“So… what are we expecting? Boy or girl?” Tony grinned in the attempt to break the silence.

Christine snorted. “We? This is _definitely_ Stephen’s.”

A flush rushed over Tony’s cheeks before he could hide it, but before he could stammer out some excuse or a responding snark, Christine had already stood back up. “It works!” she cried out, rushing to place the wand back onto the desk. It almost rolled off twice, and in her hurry Christine almost knocked the entire stand over, but within seconds, she was already running out of the room.

Tony watched her disappear out the door, his shirt still bunched up in his hands, and blinked. “We didn’t even get to the sex and she already ran out on me,” he grumbled to himself, if just to try to keep whatever lighthearted mood in the air.

As he pulled his shirt back down, Tony started to realize that… he didn’t feel excited. He didn’t feel happy, relieved, anything. He honestly should, he may have just saved Tao’s life, but there was just… No, he was tired. Just tired. And the moment Christine left the room, it all tumbled back down on him again. So he gathered his things, his toolbox and his tools, and made sure to ‘accidentally’ leave a couple books of ration cards behind.

He was just done with today. The celebrating could wait. He stacked the toolbox on top of his battery and scooped it up, and it felt like it weighed a thousand times more than it ever had. He deserved his rest. He did his job.

Tony wandered back into the hall, where he saw Christine darting from room to room, gathering up doctors and nurses and whoever else she could find. Judging by their weary expressions, they, too, were much too exhausted to celebrate. What time was it?

He winced. There weren’t any clocks on the walls. Those would take precious energy and battery power. All he knew was that it was dark outside, it was time for sleep, and that was exactly what he was going to do. Christine had already disappeared into the sleeping quarters, and Tony wasn’t that far behind. Though just before he walked inside, he took a moment to brace himself.

There was no telling what Stephen would be like. He could be better. He could be empty. He could be panicking and it was being barely contained. Taking in a deep breath, Tony nudged the door open.

Christine was still rushing from doctor to nurse, her words hushed and hurried, but the responses were tired. Tony didn’t even have to ask. There would be no operating tonight, not when the doctors were so weary that they could hardly walk straight. They had all been cycling around Tao, trying to do whatever they could to keep her alive, that they needed their rest.

Just one more night, Tony decided. Tao just had to make it through one more night.

As she rushed around, Tony finally looked over to Stephen’s bed. Stephen was there, sitting on the edge much like he had before he started working on the ultrasound. His expression was blank, and that plate of slop that might be regarded as food was still sitting next to him, untouched. How long had it been since Stephen properly ate? Hell, Tony didn’t know. When was the last time _he_ had properly ate?

Adjusting his arms around the battery, Tony started walking to the bed, before Christine grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him to a halt.

“They’re going to operate at first light,” she said, the energy in her voice only sucking out the rest of Tony’s. “You did it. You _saved_ her.”

That was nice, he figured. But he really just wanted to sleep. That is until the taller woman leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

Okay, he was awake again.

Tony was left blinking while Christine rushed off again, probably to gather supplies for the surgery. As if to confirm what had just happened _really_ just happened, Tony stared at Wong, who was sitting on his own bed. His face was twisted in light disgust and he shook his head at Tony.

Jealous, probably. 

“I hope you’re not expecting that from me as well.”

Okay, maybe not.

Gathering up whatever courage Tony had left, he turned back to Stephen’s bed. Still hadn’t moved, not even to the voices around him. He just stared down at the ground with blank, hollow eyes. “How’s he…” His voice trailed off, the words not able to slip off the tongue. How was he doing? What did he really expect as an answer? Oh yes, this is perfectly normal and he’s fine?

“All we can gather is that he was hallucinating. Has been since we’ve been with the machines. Now, Strange is back to his catatonic state much like earlier. At least this way he cannot harm himself or someone else.”

A fire sparked in his veins and Tony glared back at Wong. How dare he say it’s better for him to be _empty_ than to at least be able to communicate! To at least be alive and lucid in any degree! But when he met Wong’s eyes, he saw that weary expression more than ever.

Everyone was tired. Exhausted. Strained and running on empty. With no way of knowing how to help Stephen, all the doctors could do was watch and wait. In that case… Maybe it was for the best that Stephen stay the way he was. At least until he could come back completely.

Wong laid down into his bed, throwing the thin blanket over his body and curling up in the mattress. “We will speak more in the morning,” he muttered, grabbing at something stowed away under his pillow. It wasn’t until Tony spotted Wong putting something into his ear that he saw the mp3 player tucked beside him. He only got the smallest glimpse before Wong curled his arms around it, to protect it from any potential thieves. Even when they were surrounded by people they knew and trusted, they still did not let down their guard.

Because Tao had done just that.

With no bed to call his own, or at least one he wasn’t willing to take away from a sleep-deprived doctor, Tony approached Stephen’s. It wasn’t until he sat down beside the catatonic doctor that Stephen seemed to show any awareness at all. Stephen seemed to… slump into him, much like that first time in the group therapy.

“Alright,” Tony sighed, dropping the battery into his lap. “Time for bed, doc.”

No answer, and he didn’t expect one. All Tony had to focus on now was his task. It took some awkward shuffling, and Tony may have cursed once or twice when Stephen’s clinging got in the way of the goal, not to mention the small size of the bed itself, but he managed to lay Stephen down. He’d been moments away from tucking Stephen into the blanket, had it not been for the other man reaching out for him again.

Tony sighed again, and ignored the way his heart ached. Stephen wasn’t in his right mind. Tony was just a warm body right now, one he could cling to while his mind was tormented by memories. Was it wrong of Tony to use that for his own personal gain? Probably, but Tony’s morals were as exhausted as the rest of his body.

It’s why he let Stephen’s arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him down into the bed. The battery was awkwardly shoved in between their bodies, but Stephen gave no sign of discomfort. All he did was cling that much tighter, burying his face into Tony’s hair. Tony could feel his shivering breath, still too fast. His hands instinctively pressed up against Stephen’s chest in any attempt to create space between them, but the warmth beneath his fingers… The heartbeat just under his palm…

Tony couldn’t tear himself away. And when Stephen held him that much tighter, Tony lost the urge to fight against it.

For the first time since he woke up, Tony let himself melt into the bed and into Stephen’s arms. The mattress, the very same he complained about yesterday, was practically heavensent to his body. He rested his cheek against Stephen’s chest, and felt the heartbeat against his skin. But he also felt the ribs. His fingers fell into the grooves hidden under Stephen’s shirt. He followed them beneath Tony’s own jacket that was still tucked around Stephen’s body, until he bumped into the spine.

So thin. Starving. Suffering.

There was suffering all around him.

Misplaced families, people struggling to get by, the wounded and the dying… And here Tony was. Fine. He wasn’t hungry, dying, just fine.

In an instant, a wave of misery overtook him, too fast and hard to let Tony even understand where it was coming from. Was it from Tao’s impending doom? Stephen’s suffering? The war itself grating onto each and every one of them?

Tony didn’t know. He didn’t care to think anymore. All he could do was fist his hands into Stephen’s shirt and let it spill out. And here Tony thought his tears had long since dried. But he was just so…

Tired. Of everything. Of life. Of death. Of the past and future. And if the only opportunity for peace and quiet laid within the arms of a broken man, then so be it.

He cried silently, for he knew he couldn’t disturb the doctors’ sleep. He bit back his sobs and swallowed them down. He cried until he felt that there was nothing left within him to empty out. It was only when the sobs stopped coming that the exhaustion finally took hold of him. Crying himself to sleep wasn’t how Tony expected to end the night, but he lost all will to care.

At least he could finally find rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love all of you! We just had a quick question; would you guys be interested in background pairings or would you rather we focus all our attention on these two? The main plot will not be affected at all, but maybe a scene thrown in here and there? Let us know~ As always, we love all the comments and feel free to chat us up on tumblr <3 Jer is at jeromesankaraao3.tumblr.com and Musi is at musiusi.tumblr.com


	12. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope is all they can rely on, now. Hope for a better tomorrow, for the injured to survive and the broken to piece back together. They will take it moment by moment, step by step.

Tony didn’t care to remember how many times he woke up with tears dried onto his face. He hoped he could count it on one hand, but he was probably lying to himself. His eyes fought against being opened, and he winced at the light. Morning already. It felt like he had only just fallen asleep minutes ago. At least the sleep had been dreamless.

Feeling returned to his body in bits and pieces, where the most prominent was the ache in his stomach. It mostly came from the battery wedged between himself and Stephen. His right arm had fallen asleep beneath him, the left still tossed around Stephen’s body. He could still feel Stephen’s arms locked around his shoulders, tense and solid. Tony may have mistaken him as a statue had it not been for the constant rise and fall of his chest.

For just a moment, Tony toyed with the idea of closing his eyes and going back to sleep. Forget the rest of the world, he had done his duty. But the more he laid there, feeling Stephen’s chest push up against his cheek with every breath and feeling the ribs so clearly through the fabric, Tony knew there was work to be done.

It wasn’t going to get done by hiding from the world.

Tony worked his right arm free and winced at the tingles that spread through it. He couldn’t help but wonder how Stephen’s arm was fairing, having been laid on the entire night. Or maybe Stephen still won’t be lucid enough to feel it or complain. Though as he started to sit up, there was a sharp pull from the arms surrounding him. And who was Tony to deny Stephen what he wanted?

So Tony let himself be pulled back down and engulfed in the warmth again. It wasn’t his fault that Stephen wanted to sleep, or whatever he wanted. Closing his eyes, Tony soaked in whatever comfort he could scrape away.

It may be the last he got for a long time.

Tony couldn’t remember the last time he woke up in someone’s arms, or even with someone sharing his bed. He’d woken up every morning for the past six months alone. Even Pepper wouldn’t join him. It probably was because of the battery that he had to have sat on a nightstand every night. Had to be that, no other possible reason comes to mind. Tony would be lying when he said he didn’t miss it though, to wake up to someone you at least gave the _tiniest_ shits about.

This would be the last time, Tony was sure of it. Tao would survive the surgery, she had to. After that, Stephen will go back to normal, and Tony may never see him again once he left the hospital. If Stephen had any memory of the last few days, he surely will never show his face to the group again. He'd never show his face to Tony, the one thrown into all the chaos and witnessed every shred of sanity escaping him.

But Tony wasn’t allowed to enjoy his last time, not in its entirety. The door to the nurses’ quarters opened and Tony jerked on the bed. Wait, what time was it? How late was it? Were they already operating? They would have awaken him if they needed his assistance for the machines, right?

Tony pushed Stephen’s arms off of him with little thought, even when he _swore_ he heard Stephen whine. Sitting up on the bed, Tony blinked away the sleep and focused on the person who had walked into the room.

It wasn’t anyone he knew. Just another nurse or maybe a doctor. Looking around, though, Tony realized that the room was empty except for the three of them. “Where…” he started, his voice still rough.

“They’re still operating,” the man said quietly, walking directly to the boxes stacked up against the wall. “They found the site of the bleeding in the right lobe of the liver, crossing into the falciform ligament, and another puncture-”

“In English. I’m a genius, not a dictionary,” Tony muttered, rubbing a hand against his face in any attempt to wake himself up more. Liver. That’s where the blood filtered for the most part. And if he had his anatomy right, which he damn well should, that was in the high center of the abdomen. He swallowed.

The doctor glared back at him, but Tony dismissed it without another thought. “Is she going to live or not?” Tony pressed, worming his way out of the bed. “They’re still operating, so she hasn’t died.” Yet. Hasn’t died yet.

“She was _very_ lucky that the major arteries were not cut, but the damage was excessive enough to if we had not operated soon, she would not have made it another night. Whoever attacked her knew what they were doing.”

That still wasn’t answering any of his questions. Tony glared back, scooping up the battery and meeting him across the room. “Is she going to live?” Tony asked through gritted teeth. “Yes or no.”

“I’m a doctor, not a fortune teller.”

God, were all doctors such assholes? But when Tony opened his mouth again, the doctor continued speaking.

“We don’t know. She’s very weak. Had the punctures hit her digestive tract or gone even a few millimeters deeper, she wouldn’t have made it through the first night. She is doing as well as anyone could in this situation. _If_ she makes it out of surgery, _if_ there are no infections, then she _should_ recover.” The doctor turned around and grabbed at one of the boxes that was filled with cans and dried food. It must be close to dinner.

“Make sure she makes it through, then,” Tony grunted, as if he had any say on the situation to begin with. He couldn’t let all his hard work go to waste. He couldn’t lose Tao and Stephen after all of this time. Not when they were so close to the light at the end of the tunnel.

The doctor only huffed, barely giving Tony much more than a glance before he heaved the box up into his arms. “No wonder Strange likes you,” he muttered under his breath, walking back to the door. Tony had half a mind to make him eat those words one way or another, but he may not be welcomed back if Tony put another doctor on the operating table. He made sure to glare two holes into his back the entire way out of the room.

As soon as the door closed, though, Tony let out a sigh and his shoulders slumped. There was still so much they didn’t know. That _Tony_ didn’t know. Was Tao going to survive? Maybe? That was the only answer he could get. He would need to wait until the doctors returned either with the news of her recovery or covered in dirt from burying the body. Until then, Tony guessed that he had a doctor to take care of himself.

Tony stared down at the bed as he walked back over, though he hesitated. It would be best if he woke Stephen up to get him something to eat but… God, he looked so peaceful. His arms were still stretched out across the bed, his healthy fingers hooked into the blankets for any comfort in reach. His face was momentarily smoothed out, different from the blank expression he wore the last few days. Stephen just looked… peaceful. Dreaming, maybe.

He shook himself. No, Stephen needed to eat. He couldn’t let sleeping get in the way of what his body desperately needed, even if it… probably also needed sleep. One thing at a time.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Tony leaned over and reached out for Stephen’s shoulder, then hesitated. Would Stephen react badly to being touched again? He was laying on his left side, pinning his good arm beneath him while the bad one laid stretched out. How was he going to do this and hopefully not trigger Stephen in some way? He bit onto his bottom lip before he shifted his hand, giving a few quick prods into Stephen’s back. He winced as his fingers slipped in between the ribs. That couldn’t feel pleasant.

It was enough to make Stephen flinch and curl inwards, burned fingers still searching for comfort. His brow furrowed, making Tony’s heart clench in his chest. Why did Stephen have to make himself go hungry for so long and make Tony do this? It wasn’t Tony’s fault he had to do this! But he felt like he was kicking a damn puppy in forcing Stephen up.

“C’mon, I need to get some food into you,” Tony sighed, and gave one more prod.

That last one hit a spot to rouse Stephen up. His eyes fluttered open, and Tony made a mental note of the sea-green. One day, he would ask someone if it was just all in his mind that Stephen’s eyes seemed to change color. Until then, he would be happy with his illusion. “There we go,” Tony chirped, cracking a smile for what felt like the first time all week.

It wasn’t Tony’s fault that Stephen looked _adorable._

Stephen blinked away the sleep, staring at the empty spot in the bed, before finally tracking Tony’s voice. So he was at least reacting to sound. As their eyes met, though, Tony felt his heart plummet. Still blank and empty.

Tony shoved his hands into his pockets, only now realizing that he should have formed some plan before waking Stephen up. Or at least gotten him food. “Fuck,” he mumbled, looking away from Stephen’s blank stare. “I didn’t think I’d get this far.”

As if on cue, Stephen’s eyes already started fluttering closed and he rested his head back down onto the pillow. Well, he lost that opportunity.

_Ring._

Tony jumped, and he scrambled for the phone in his pants pocket. He managed to pick it up on the third ring without disturbing Stephen _too_ much. He answered without even thinking to look at the screen, because he was a wild and crazy guy. “What?” he hissed into the phone, leaning away from Stephen.

_“Um, hello to you, too? We gotta work on your attitude.”_

“Pep?” Tony gawked, pulling the phone away long enough to stare at the screen. Yep, Pepper. He put the phone back up to his ear. “What’s going on?”

_“It’s noon. I told you I would call to check how you were doing. So this is me. Checking.”_

Pulling the phone away one more time, Tony blinked. “It’s literally noon on the dot. Did you just sit there and wait for it to turn to twelve?”

_“I don’t see a problem.”_

“Punctual as always,” Tony muttered, glancing back over his shoulder. 

Sure enough, Stephen had already curled himself back into his thin blanket and pushed his head into the pillow, as if he could suffocate the noise and the outside world if he simply hid. Tony’s gut twisted, battling between the instinct to pull Stephen back out of sleep or to let him rest.

“Hey, I got a totally hypothetical question for you, Pepperino,” Tony sighed, reaching out and carefully moving the blanket away from Stephens right arm. He couldn’t hide his wince as he stared at the angry red skin, the bleak white and the holes drilled deep into his flesh. That question of what happened came to the forefront again, but he pushed it away. No one would give him an answer even if he tried.

_“Oh, God.”_

“So let’s just say,” Tony started, outright ignoring Pepper’s groan, “that my friend, the doctor I told you about, is still not back to normal. Hypothetically. How do I get my hypothetical catatonic doctor to hypothetically eat so he doesn’t hypothetically starve?”

_“Hypothetically.”_

“Exactly, glad to see you’re on board,” Tony grinned to himself, and he could almost hear her eye-rolling through the phone.

 _“Well, first of all, why can’t you ask anything like a normal person? Second, a catatonic state is literally a_ comatose _state. You’re not going to get your ‘hypothetical’ doctor friend to do anything.”_

“Well, you see, that’s where it’s weird,” Tony said, his fingers absentmindedly running across Stephen’s scarred bicep. Even when scarred and burned to shit, and with a bit of starvation for good measures, he was still surprisingly muscular. Tony tucked that little tidbit into the back of his mind for later. “He’s moving and things like that, but he’s not talking to anyone, doesn’t really respond to anyone or other stimulus, it’s like he’s… I don’t know how to put it.”

That was a lie, Tony knew exactly how to put it. Terrifying. If yesterday had shown Tony anything, it was that whatever had shut down Stephen’s mind was to be feared. It could be ravaging through him right at this moment, forcing Stephen through torture that his brain couldn’t escape from.

“Yesterday, he came to for a little bit, but he wasn’t… here. You know? He was hallucinating. The other docs just went along with it, like it’s happened before. Then he just… lost his mind. Flipped his shit. Just went absolutely _nuts._ He shut down again, and now he won’t come back out. He’s been like this for…” Tony paused. How many days had it been? It was Sunday, and it had to be since Friday at the very least… “At least three days. I swear, he’s already lost weight.”

Pepper was silent on the other side, and Tony could only hope that meant she was thinking of some solution. When she didn’t respond, Tony continued.

“I really don’t know what to do, Pep. Like, I usually have all the answers, but this? I’ve never dealt with this. And I can’t just sit and wait, either. Everyone else seems just fine waiting, but…” Tony bit his bottom lip. It just hurt to see Stephen like this. Even if he only knew the guy a few weeks, there was something about him that drew him in. Maybe it was his broken spirit that Tony needed to repair. Maybe Stephen really did start out as a pet project, but…

_“You’re going to need to start with an IV. If he’s not getting fluids, he’ll die of dehydration-”_

Tony laughed, tipping his head back. Stephen didn’t react to the noise. “Oh my God, Pep, you have not seen this place. I _wish_ it was that easy.”

_“You’re at a hospital, aren’t you?”_

Another laugh, this time bitter. “Why the fuck do you think I had to bring my tools? This place is a dump. There’s people fucking everywhere, there’s gruel for food, I don’t even know if the doctors are actually _doctors._ This place is fucked.”

_“I highly doubt people are ‘fucking’ everywhere.”_

“Don’t sass me, you know what I meant.” Flicking his eyes to the doorway, Tony cleared his throat. “I’m serious, though. This place is a wreck. I brought a couple books of ration cards and they looked at it like I just brought them the secret to eternal life. They started _interrogating_ me, thinking I was some hitman or… you know. Them.”

_“I’m sure that went over well.”_

Tony scoffed, keeping his eyes on the door. His stomach twisted again. “Pep, these people… You know when they had the commercials of those starving kids in Africa and you donate like sixty-seven cents a day to feed them? That’s this place. They’re all just laying on the floor. There’s kids all by themselves. I saw _babies._ How… How does it get this bad? I thought we were on the _winning_ side.”

 _“War is war, Tony. You should know that better than anyone. There is no_ _winning side.”_

“I thought I did. Now I’m not so sure.”

Tony may have been moments away from plunging into his own thoughts had it not been for Pepper clearing her throat to direct him back. She always knew how his mind tended to wander. “Anyway, I need something other than an IV. I guess he must have drank something if he isn’t dead yet? I just haven’t seen him eat.”

_“You’re going to want something soft that he can’t choke on. If he’s aware enough to take it, he will. Other than that, you… can’t really force him. Has he been reacting to anything at all?”_

Tony almost answered before he gave it any thought. Well, yeah, actually. “He must like me or something. He always clings to me, even when we were at our meeting. Doesn’t seem like he’s doing it to anyone else. Is this like when ducklings imprint on something when they hatch?”

Pepper snorted on the other side and it left a familiar flutter in his chest. He remembered when that little snort meant the world to him. _“You’re a mama duck, now. Congratulations, it’s a boy.”_

Tony grinned to himself, but it disappeared in seconds. He glanced back down to Stephen, where he remained tucked into his single blanket and probably asleep. Tony’s fingertip caught onto the edge of one of the holes, and he made sure to wince in Stephen’s place. The other man didn’t move, eyes still closed, with barely a twitch to the eyelids to tell Tony that he was even there at all.

He paused, if only to take the rare opportunity to look at Stephen’s arm closer. His stomach churned, but he swallowed it down. Tony had to find out what happened to Stephen at some point, and if he was going to help the other man at all, it had to start with that.

The inside of the hole was dry, tough like leather. Pressing down against the white skin gave little give, perhaps because it was so close to the bone. He traced the edge of the hole, tugging against the skin to test the elasticity. There was very little movement at all, already stretched and frozen. It was when Tony came to Stephen’s wrist that he squinted down at the flesh.

His wrist had what looked like… a ring of healthy flesh. At least, healthier than what surrounded it. There was a noticeable difference in the amount of flesh, being thicker around the wrist and with a pink color. It was maybe an inch wide and lingered only on the wrist, nowhere else. As he traced the edges, though, he paused.

Slowly, carefully, he rested his arm right beside Stephen’s, lining them up hand to elbow. The breath caught in his throat.

The ring of healthy flesh lined up almost exactly to Tony’s wrist, to his wristwatch. An outline of a watch Stephen must have been wearing when… _whatever_ happened. A cold chill ran down his spine and he shivered, snapping his arm back. The vision of Stephen’s arm burning, the watch practically scalding into his skin, but still somehow protecting it from the rest of the fire as it melted away his flesh…

_“Uh, Tony?”_

Tony yelped, almost jumping off the bed when the voice spoke through the phone. “Jesus, Pep! My heart!” he scowled, and would have gone on had it not been for the movement on the bed. Stephen was twitching back to life, fingers clawing back into the mattress. Somehow, it took just a little yell to pull Stephen back to the land of the living, and _not_ playing around with his burned arm.

“Shit, he’s awake, help,” Tony hissed from between clenched teeth, watching as Stephen pulled himself up into a sitting position. He made sure to check his eyes, and his heart sunk at the blankness that still lingered.

_“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to help you.”_

“I mean, he’s still out, what do I-” Tony’s voice turned into a squeak as Stephen suddenly lurched against him, almost all of his body weight now residing into Tony’s chest and shoulder. Just as he expected, Stephen’s arms soon curled around Tony’s body and held fast.

_“Tony? Tony, what happened?”_

“I-I’m okay, he’s just… He’s clinging again. Just wasn’t ready for it.” Tony reached forward and pushed the battery to the side, safe from Stephen’s potential grasp. The last thing he wanted was to be accidentally unplugged by an unaware Stephen.

_“Don’t scare me like that!”_

“Well, think of that as payback,” Tony grumbled, staring down at Stephen. He had his head buried into Tony’s shoulder, staring blankly at the ground. In their current position, Stephen was about ready to shove Tony off the bed. Letting out a sigh, Tony said, “Give me a sec,” and laid the phone down on the mattress.

“Okay, are you going to work with me, Doc?” Tony muttered, already knowing he wouldn’t get an answer. Sucking in the air through his teeth, Tony worked his way down the bed, hooking his arms around Stephen to drag him with. Even with the asshole being half starved, he was still heavier than he had any right to be. Not to mention he was a literal deadweight.

With some skillful dragging and just a bit of shoving and cursing, Tony finally laid back into the bed with a huff. Stephen’s arms were already latching tighter around Tony’s stomach, burying his head into what Tony would refuse to call anything other than abs and hardened muscle. The mixed signals coming to and from his head, and the other one, weren’t helping, but all he had to do was see Stephen’s blank gaze and everything quieted back down.

Tony rested one hand on his chest and grabbed the phone with the other, checking to make sure Pepper was still connected. Fortunately or unfortunately, he wasn’t sure which yet, she was. “I’m back,” he grunted as he held the phone up to his ear again.

_“I’m not interrupting anything, am I? Heard a lot of squeaking bed springs and grunting-”_

“No!” Tony yelped, throwing his other hand in the air. “He’s catatonic! That’s- how can you think that?!”

 _“I’ve known you for a very long time,”_ was all Pepper said, and while he opened his mouth to protest against whatever she was insinuating, Tony realized that he may be better off not knowing. He put that life behind him, after all. It was staying in the past.

Clearing his throat, Tony dropped his head down into the pillow and stared up at the ceiling. “Anyway,” he muttered, quickly changing the subject. Running his other hand down his chest, Tony lazily ran his fingers into Stephen’s hair without much thought. It was greasy and stringy, and mere seconds after touching it, Tony wished he didn't. Someone needed to get this man a shower. “I seriously don’t know what to do here. I don’t even know where food is, how to get to it, where the other doctors are, how to get into his head or get him out of his head, I don’t know, I just…”

Tony groaned and closed his eyes. He didn’t like feeling useless, as it wasn’t something he felt very often. There was always some sort of tool at his disposal, some way of getting out. Even when he had been _there,_ he got out. This… He couldn’t use a blowtorch and wrench to fix this.

_“We can start with why he’s shutting down?”_

“Shittiest start you could have started with, Pepsi. He shut down because I _think_ his mom figure got stabbed, he saw it-”

_“You told me about that already. He came back yesterday, you said? What shut him down again?”_

Tony swallowed. Even thinking back to it hurt. He could feel the fingers grabbing at his shirt, Stephen’s voice echoing in his head… “Like I said, he was hallucinating. He just started screaming that everyone was… That everyone was dead. The other docs said that he was on ‘day four,’ whatever that means. He didn’t recognize me, either. He was going on and on about how everyone was hurt, that he was dying, they needed water, something about planes, burning, it was all just a mess.”

_“A fire?”_

“Could be?” Tony glanced down at Stephen’s right arm that was haphazardly tossed over his legs. He stared at the practically rotting fingers and shuddered. “This is worse than fire. Like, he’s got burn scars, but he’s got literal _holes_ in his arm. I don’t know what kind of fire does that.”

_“Not a normal fire, then. He’s got holes in his arm?”_

“Yeah, I can stick my fingers in them. Some are just like pits but others are almost half an inch deep, maybe more. Like someone cut little holes and took chunks out. I’ve never seen it before.” Not even with all the… things he created, he had never seen a wound like this. Here Tony thought he had seen, and created, it all. He wasn’t sure if he should feel good or not that there was some sort of weapon that could a different type of damage than his own. This looked like some super weapon that creates the villains and monsters in horror movies.

“Can you just be my Siri?” Tony grumbled, dropping his head back down onto the pillow and letting his fingers play through Stephen’s hair. It was a bit greasy, but he doubted that Stephen had showered since the accident. Maybe even before then.

_“That’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”_

He huffed, feeling his heart sink. “I dunno, I thought ‘will you marry me’ was pretty romantic.”

_“You mean when you were drunk out of your mind at a party to celebrate your new ‘invention’ in front of military heads, and when I said no, said that ‘it’s just a joke’? That bit of romance?”_

Ouch. “Forget I said anything,” Tony muttered, mostly to himself.

_“Believe me, I’ve tried.”_

“Okay, now you’re just being mean.”

_“Anyway, back to the comatose starving doctor.”_

Back to the starving doctor indeed. Tony closed his eyes and focused on running his fingers through Stephen’s hair, no matter how disgusting it felt. This was by far the most intimate he had been with another person in a _long_ time. Call him touch starved, but Tony would take whatever he could get until it was over. Apparently, so will Stephen if his clinging was anything to go by. “So he’s traumatized by something that killed a lot of people and ruined his arm. That’s all well and good but it’s not getting him to eat any sooner.”

_“I don’t think you have a choice. You’ll have to wait out the episode. If anything, leave out some food for him just in case he comes to.”_

“I don’t know where the damn food is, and I can’t-”

The doors to the room parted, and before Tony could even sit himself up properly, five people were walking into the room. Each still had their scrubs on, and they were peeling off bloodied gloves and tossing them into a bin. Exhaustion was written across each of their faces, and Tony spotted Wong as one of the last to enter the room.

Without pause, Tony squirmed his way out from Stephen’s hold and scooped up the battery with one hand. “I gotta call you back, Pep, the doctors just came back.” Whatever Pepper was about to say was ignored as the phone was flipped shut and tossed onto the mattress. Stephen’s hands were reaching out to drag him back, but Tony was already off the bed.

“How’d it go?” Tony asked, shifting the battery under one arm. None of the other four doctors seemed to pay attention to him, as each were already on their way to their bed. The only one who even looked at him was Wong.

He’d never seen much emotion crack onto Wong’s face in the past, but he looked exhausted, like the life had been sucked away from him. Just as a cold realization started to claw at his mind, though, Wong spoke. “She survived the surgery, but she’s still very weak. She is breathing on her own ability. It may be a few hours or until tomorrow before she regains consciousness.”

The breath Tony didn’t know he was holding escaped out of his chest in a rush, almost leaving him as a puddle on the tile floor. Tao was going to make it, she had to. She was going to pull through after all this time. Though as he opened his mouth to ask more, Wong lifted one hand and stopped him.

“There’s something I would like you to see,” Wong murmured, and with no other words, turned around and walked back out the door.

Something to see? Tony’s premature relief was halted at the prospect. Something that was too important to wait upon. Perhaps another machine needed to be tended to. He could just be the hospital’s fixer-upper. Tony had nothing better to do with his time, and as long as it was helping someone in need…

Tony stepped out into the hall and followed Wong back down the long expanse, passing door after door. He wondered idly if there were people in every single room, or if they were storage. Certainly if there were so many people clustered together downstairs, they’d be using every available space? Or maybe the civilians weren’t allowed upstairs because… Well the exact reason that had Tao fighting for her life.

“This floor is reserved for doctors and patients,” Wong explained, and Tony almost asked if Wong was reading his mind. “The first floor is free for civilian use. Some resources are stored downstairs and are free for whoever needs them, such as clothing and blankets. Sometimes we see donations come through the door of others already back on their feet, but more often than not, we rely on replenishments. You’ll see wool army blankets are the most common item, as well as left over uniforms. We get the leftovers.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Tony asked, noticing that Wong was still staring straight ahead.

“To give you a better understanding of what life in this hospital can be. The worst days of war may be behind us, but every moment is another struggle. But we all do what we can, because there is always hope. It’s what's kept us all going. What will keep Stephen going.”

Tony slowed down as they approached Tao’s door, but Wong just continued walking. They weren’t coming to see Tao? What else could there be to see? They only walked past a few more doors before Wong came to a stop.

There were voices coming out of a room with the door open just a crack. Tony recognized Christine’s, but there were other voices. They couldn’t be doctors, most of them were back in the nurses’ room. Patients? Tony glanced to Wong for some sort of answer, but instead, Wong reached out and opened the door.

He spotted Christine first, still in her scrubs and wearing gloves. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and judging by her general appearance, she must have come straight from Tao’s surgery to this room. Though as he peered in through the gap, Tony’s heart swelled.

There were two other people, a man and a woman. The woman was laying down on a bench, and Christine was standing beside her. The ultrasound was positioned right beside the bed, and Tony’s eyes trailed down to the wand Christine held expertly to the woman’s swollen stomach. On the screen, Tony could see through the gray haze the outline of… Of a baby.

She was pregnant. And she was smiling. The man beside her was smiling, too, his hands wrapped around hers in a gentle squeeze. They were both staring at the screen with tears in their eyes, and Tony had to swallow back the swell of emotions.

“You made this possible,” Wong whispered behind him. “They’ve gone to hospitals for the past month looking for a functioning ultrasound. Christine contacted them after you finished, and they came straight here.”

Tony swallowed again, and he could feel the familiar sting of tears. But this was different. He felt… warm, and a blissful feeling engulfed him. He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his lips that mirrored everyone’s in the room.

How long had it been since he felt this happy, or any happiness at all? Sure, he knew that fixing the ultrasound would help Tao, but it was helping other people, too. This was much more than a personal project or some tinkering.

Tony was _helping_ someone.

“That’s him,” Christine suddenly said, glancing back to Tony and Wong with a bright, yet tired, smile. She lifted the wand off of the woman’s pregnant stomach just in time, because as soon as the woman looked at Tony, she was squirming her way off the bench. Her partner was quick to help, his movements soft, careful and loving as he helped her to her feet. As soon as she was steady, she raced across the room.

“You’re an angel,” the woman gasped, and before Tony could even say a word, she had her arms wrapped tight around his body in a squeeze. Her swollen stomach, which he guessed was already in the third trimester but what did he know about pregnancy, was pressed up against him and almost tipped him back. Though while Tony feared for a second that he could somehow squish her stomach, his fears were calmed by the grin on her face.

Tony was polite enough to exchange a look with her partner before he wrapped his free arm around her and squeezed her back. The other was still diligently holding the battery like second nature. She pulled back just enough to look up at him, and Tony could see her tears. Good tears, though.

“Everything check out alright?” he asked, because he was a nosey little bastard and curiosity would eat at him if he didn’t know.

“Yes! Thanks to you!” She squeezed him once more and held tight, while her partner’s face softened with loving exasperation. 

He stepped up and carefully worked one arm around her waist to pull her back. “Let him breathe, darling,” he chuckled, then glanced back up to Tony. “Thank you. Really, if there’s any way we could ever repay you. Anything at all.”

“I didn’t do anything but fix a few wires,” Tony laughed, suddenly feeling embarrassment wash over him. He didn’t deserve all this praise. Normally, he would be soaking it in with no remorse, but this… This was something much bigger than him. “Thank the docs. They’re the ones working hard.”

“I didn’t picture you as bashful,” Christine chuckled from behind them, already shutting down the machine. “They insisted they met you before they left.”

Reaching out, the woman grasped onto Tony’s hand and squeezed it. “Let us thank you somehow. Please.”

Tony paused, his throat closing up with the rush of warmth. These were perfect strangers, people he had never seen before in his life, and yet… Was this what the doctors felt every day? Was this what made it worth all the pain and suffering they went through with every waking moment of this war? If it was…

“What’s the baby going to be?” he asked, his smile widening.

“It’s a boy,” the woman practically sung, squeezing his hand harder. “We need names. Help us with the name.”

There was no debate in his mind to the name. He squeezed the woman’s hand in return and smiled. This was the hope that Wong was talking about. The hope that Stephen needed now more than ever. Even in their bleak, war-torn world, there was still good. There were still families. There was still _life._ This is what these people were fighting for every day. What Stephen fought for. Even if Stephen could never be a full doctor again because of his arm, even if the world never truly recovered, he still fought for hope.

And if Tony could help keep that hope going…

“Name him Stephen.”


	13. Black Ticket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little by little, Stephen improves. There is one person that Tony needs to find answers for, though. Wong still stands in his way.

By the end of the day, Stephen managed to eat a small amount of canned ‘meat’, or at least Tony hoped that he had. Any time he left the nurses’ office to go anywhere, he always returned to a little less food on Stephen’s plate. Tony was sure Stephen didn’t have the mental capacity to bother hiding it, and it would waste the food.

While Stephen still had yet to say a word, his eyes were tracking things again. It was all good progress.

The same couldn’t be said about Tao. No matter how many times Tony walked past that door, it was always closed. Sometimes he wondered if anyone was inside at all, but there always seemed to be a doctor missing. They certainly wouldn’t leave her by herself so soon after surgery. Any questions Tony had were met with silence or shrugs. It was frustrating and worrying at the same time.

That night, Stephen was lucid enough to where he didn’t immediately cling to Tony when he joined the doctor in the small bed. Though he still didn’t say a thing, he simply rolled onto his other side and curled away as far as humanly possible and kept his back to him. Tony did have to fetch his own blanket, though. The nights were getting chilly again and he didn’t have Stephen’s heat to rely upon. At least he didn’t until sometime in the middle of the night, where whatever guard Stephen was holding up fell.

Tony woke up to the feeling of tightness in his chest, and while his first instinct was that his battery had gone dead and he was going into cardiac arrest, a quick analysis told him that it was just Stephen’s arms roped around his chest again. Stephen’s deep breaths brushed against the hair on his neck, sending more shivers down his spine. Stephen was holding him so tightly, their bodies almost clicking into place beside each other, that Tony was afraid that one wrong move would separate them and send Stephen scurrying away.

He didn’t have to fear for long, though, as the rhythmic breaths coaxed Tony back to sleep. The sleep was dreamless and quiet, like he was just drifting. It may be one of the first nights in a while that Tony felt refreshed when he opened his eyes to the sun streaming through the windows. The arms around him had loosened yet still circled his body, and he could still feel Stephen’s radiating heat pressed against his back. Had he the chance, he would have stayed there forever, but if Stephen was anymore lucid today, having him wake up to a man in his arms would not be a good start.

Tony blinked around the room, trying to work out the stiffness in his joints. A couple doctors were asleep in their beds, Christine being one of them. She had been the one to stay with Tao during the night, last he remembered. The fact that she could rest easy soothed most of his worries. Not all, but most. He’d be a lot less worried if he could actually see Tao.

Or even better, let _Stephen_ see Tao.

Wiggling himself free of Stephen’s grasp, Tony picked up the battery and stretched. Yeah, he missed his bed back home. It was nothing like the one he used to have before it was all stripped from him, but it was far more comfortable than these ancient hospital beds. Almost anything was. As he glanced around the room, he realized that there was one other person awake.

Wong.

He was sitting on his bed, one earbud in his ear connected to the mp3 player and quietly reading a weathered book. His focus was entirely upon the yellowed pages, so much so that he didn’t realize Tony had woken up. Finally, it might be his chance to find out what was happening with Tao.

Though Tony only got halfway across the room when Wong jolted on the bed. “Where are you going?” the doctor asked, surprise sneaking into his voice. Damn it.

Wincing, Tony glanced back to Wong. “Uh, breakfast,” he quickly said. “I haven’t eaten yet.”

Wong raised an eyebrow, then closed the book. “There were days that sleep would be substituted for meals,” he calmly said but set down his book all the same. “I will join you.”

Of course.

Tony offered a weak smile, and was halfway through saying that Wong didn’t have to come with him before Wong was already stepping out of his bed. He had slept in his scrubs, probably something that happened more often than any of the doctors cared to admit. “Well, go on. While it’s still warm.”

And now Tony was going to be eating… No, he didn’t want to know what it was. He’d rather just close his eyes and swallow than know what it was. He stifled back his complaints and stepped aside for Wong to go first. He had yet to eat a meal in this place that wasn’t a few granola bars that Christine would toss his way. Those may end up being a luxury that the hospital could not afford Tony living off of.

“How does the food work around here?” Tony asked before he could stop himself, almost biting his tongue to keep from more words being thrown out of his mouth. They walked down the hall, the opposite direction of Tao’s room Tony noticed, and started down the stairs. The image of Stephen knelt down crying over the child flashed in front of his vision that he had to shake away.

“Supplies are dropped off normally once a week. Usually Wednesday, but sometimes we get deliveries on Fridays as well. Most often, it’s as meager as a crate of bread, other times full shipments of medicine, food, supplies, anything. But for the most part, we are given ration cards the same as anyone else. We’ve tried growing our own crops, but we lack the tools and the time.” Wong nodded to someone as they stepped onto the first floor. The area was much less populated, where the floor was littered with empty blankets and sleeping bags. “While we do still have a kitchen, we do not have the luxury of time to cook for what can be a couple hundred people at a time.”

Hundreds of people. The number took a moment to sink in. Hundreds of people in this hospital, on the first floor. All here for food, safety, medical care and supplies. He swallowed.

“At first we focused on sandwiches. They are simple to make, and easy for those who are just passing by. Then meat started running out. We switched to canned items. Then soup when the rations were low and there were only a few handfuls of ingredients. Then even making soup was too hard for a few volunteers to prepare for hundreds of hungry civilians. That’s when we invented the ticket system.”

“Ticket system?” Tony asked, once again immediately regretting opening his mouth.

“It hasn’t been used for a few months, thank the Vishantis, but we had a system for rationing out food. Those who were injured received a red ticket, and they were allowed first access to the food and at least one meal a day. Yellow were given to the elderly and the young. They were also granted at least one meal a day. Green were given to those who only sought shelter and did not need medical care. They were to eat every other day. Blue were for doctors and workers, and were given one meal a day.” Wong paused, almost stopping in his steps. “Then we had the black tickets. Those were given as punishment, and they were allowed a meal every three days.”

A shudder ran through Tony’s system. Being punished out of a meal. Rationing to the point that having a single meal every day was a luxury that had to be earned.

“Black tickets were considered a first and only warning. Breaking the rules at any time while holding a black ticket banned you from entry. Very rarely has someone with a black ticket been allowed back to green. Most leave when they realize their food will not come so easily, or when they find themselves excluded from the others. The black tickets were soon nicknamed the Plague ticket by other civilians.”

They walked into an open room that looked to be at one point a cafeteria. What Tony expected to see were tables and a counter where the food was set on paper plates for anyone to help themselves. What he saw instead was once again a room full of people sitting on the floor. Some held mismatched mugs filled with some sort of soup, others eating food with their hands. Even more were eating straight out of a can of some sorts. His stomach churned at the thought.

“Tables were used for their wood,” Wong calmly said. “Barricading windows, burning for heat, the like. They were the first to go.”

Wong walked to the far left of the room, where a door was propped open by a stone. Tony could already see people lined up inside. He decided to not ask anymore questions for now, even as they piled up in the back of his mind. Barricading from what? Certainly of all places, a hospital would be the safest place you could go at a time of war. They soon approached a metal counter where he correctly guessed the food was placed upon. More mugs, cups of juice, water or tea, a few cans, and a pile of vegetables. They weren’t cooked, Tony didn’t expect them to be, and as he picked up a carrot, he felt it squish a little between his fingers.

“Fresh vegetables arrive on Wednesday,” Wong said, picking up a mug of soup and one cup of tea.

“Yeah, I know,” Tony sighed and picked out a couple carrots. “When I remember to eat, I usually go for these before they go bad. Cheap and easy, no clean up after.”

“Precisely.”

With their food in hand, they wandered back out to the others and found a corner to sit down. Tony grunted as he sat, plopping his battery down onto his lap while he focused on the carrot. It wasn’t the worst thing he could have picked, he told himself. He took a bite, and when he didn’t feel his stomach immediately try to reject it, took another. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched two children eating some corn on the cob. They were young, maybe three or four, born during war. These children would grow up to savor every scrap of food that ever graced their plate. There was no room for disliking vegetables.

“Stephen almost got a black ticket once.”

Tony almost spat out the piece of carrot in his mouth, coughing to clear his airways. “W-what?!” he croaked, turning back to Wong with wide eyes.

The doctor just smirked at him, sitting crosslegged while sipping quietly on his tea. He nodded. “Granted, Strange never was too regular with his eating habits to begin with, but he was the only doctor to ever be threatened with a black ticket.”

“Shit,” Tony wheezed, rubbing at his throat. Only once he got his coughing under control did he clear his throat. “What did he do?”

“Well,” Wong began, and the smirk faded back into the expressionless mask Wong always wore. “One year ago, there was a riot in the West District. The military were called in. Neither side came out unscathed. Every doctor had at least three patients at once, every bed was taken, and there were patients laid out in this very room. The total number of people injured that were under our care was seventy-eight. Of that number, nine died.”

Tony swallowed, the carrot feeling like stones gathering in his belly, but he continued eating. Already, he could imagine this room filled with people, all stretched out and bleeding, some military and others civilians, now just one group of injured people.

“There was a man who had been stabbed twenty-eight times. He was one of the first to be tended to, but try as he might, Strange could not stop the bleeding. The man was begging for his life, but it was no use. With patients still lined up outside, Strange made the decision to leave the man to die, as to save the supplies to someone who may live instead.” Wong paused, staring down into his tea. “Tao has a very strict rule when it comes to the lives we save. If they plea for death and the victim knows that their wounds are too great, we respect their wishes. But if someone wants to live, then we do not stop.”

“But he stopped,” Tony whispered, another shiver running through him.

“He tried. He had already left the room to aid another patient when Tao caught him abandoning the man. Stephen is the only person I have ever seen to argue with Tao, and she threatened to not only black ticket him, but remove him from their ward. Her golden rule was never to be broken, and those who did were not allowed to work in her hospital again. Had there not been another dozen victims being rushed through the doors, I fear Stephen may have walked out.” Wong took a long drink of his tea, then let out a quiet sigh. “But he turned around and he walked back into the room. Within three minutes, that man bled out, but Stephen did not stop working on him until he passed two minutes of constant CPR and almost began to manually pump his heart. Christine stopped him. We ran out of bandages later that night, resorting to cloth and shreds of clothing. Stephen never spoke about that patient, but I know he still carries it with him to this day.”

Tony’s mind was left spinning over the story, even when Wong continued to drink his tea. “And then what?” he breathed, scooting himself across the floor to get closer to the doctor. “Did she black ticket him? Does anyone else know about this?”

Wong shook his head. “The night was too frantic to continue the conversation. Lives kept slipping through our fingers. By the time morning had come, all doctors had been too exhausted to so much as raise a voice. Stephen was not punished if only because that night was punishment enough. Stephen is the most skilled surgeon out of all of us, thus received the worst injuries to tend to. His death count that night was four out of the nine.”

Four people died under Stephen’s care, all within a few hours. Tony swallowed down the growing sick. He couldn’t even imagine the strain of watching life after life fade away, then having to go on to the next like nothing had happened. Each patient unknowing of what the doctor just suffered.

How Stephen had not broken down sooner was far beyond Tony’s grasp.

When it was obvious Wong would say no more on the subject, Tony resigned himself back to eating the nearly rotten carrot. It sat hard in his gut, but he knew better than to complain. Everyone around him, young and old, were all subjected to the same meal.

“As soon as Strange recovers enough of his bearings, I request you take him out of this hospital.”

Tony almost choked on the last bite of his carrot but swallowed it down. “Excuse me?” he coughed, glancing up at the doctor. “Isn’t this exactly where he should stay? You know, with doctors to take care of him?”

“This place is too dangerous for his mental health. He has walked these halls on and off for years, now. Too many memories are bled into the walls and tiles. His… reaction two nights ago should be more than enough evidence. He needs to clear his head, and there is no other place to do it than with someone outside the hospital. Right now, you are the only option.” Wong was staring down into his tea, his eyes fogging over with thought and deliberation. He tilted the mug back to his lips and drank down the last few drops, then stood back up with the empty mug and the other still holding his almost untouched soup. “We need to get going, we can’t dottle around all day.”

“Wait!” Tony yelped, scooping up the battery and rapidly shoving the carrot into his mouth. He almost gagged, because it was by far not his best idea, but he maintained enough composure to follow Wong out of the cafeteria.

Once he swallowed down the carrot, Tony could finally speak again. “You’re just going to hand him off to me? How do you even know I have a place for him? Hell, how will he even choose to _go?”_  

Wong felt no need to look back, just sipping down the soup much like he already had with his tea. “You come here with ration cards that exceed our own supply, I’m sure you have room. And for whatever reason, Strange trusts you. Also you are in better contact with this ‘group’ he’s been going to than any of us. At this point, there is very little anyone could do and cause his condition to deteriorate any more.”

Questions only piled that much higher in Tony’s mind, with none of them escaping his lips. He numbly followed Wong back up the stairs, but as soon as they neared the nurses’ room, Tony sped up and cut Wong off. “Before we do any of that,” he started, meeting Wong’s narrowed gaze, “I need to know what’s going on with the lady. You haven’t said anything about if she’s getting better, if she’s worse, if she’s awake…” Tony trailed off, motioning for Wong to fill in the gaps.

Wong’s eyes only narrowed that much more, but there was a shadow lingering in the depths. Something had to be wrong that they were secluding Tao away like this. His eyes flicked to the nurses’ door for just a second, then Wong stepped past Tony to walk deeper down the hall.

“Not around the others,” Wong breathed, his voice so low that Tony barely heard it standing right next to him. The carrots in his stomach were tossing and turning at this rate with unease. They walked past Tao’s door, with Wong not giving an ounce of hesitation, and they stepped into the room still cluttered with machines.

As Wong closed the door behind them, Tony sucked in a deep breath to prepare himself. For anything. Tao could have died during surgery and they hid the fact if only to protect Stephen’s fragile psyche. She could still be fighting for her life. She may never wake up again. It had been a solid twenty-four hours at the very least, they had to know _something._  

“The incident in which Tao was injured was… not ideal,” Wong began, stepping deeper into the room and weaving around the broken machines. His hand skimmed across several monitors and panels, and he would not meet Tony’s eyes. “In the many years I have worked alongside her, Tao had an unbridled spirit. Some call it naivety, others a child’s spirit, but many more see her as an,” Wong paused, and judging by the twitching of his lips, he was holding back a laugh. “An ancient one. An old soul far beyond her years.”

Of course she was. In the very small moments that Tony interacted with her, she had some sort of spring to her step, and the bright yellow coat only accentuated her carefree attitude, practically challenging the world to stop her. But then…

“And it was precisely for that reason that she is blind to those who use her. She gives far too much, and she was punished for it. She dismissed the warnings of everyone in this hospital and gave to what ended up becoming enemies. And now I fear that her injuries are far deeper than physical.”

Sick started to crawl up Tony’s throat without his permission, and swallowing it down was difficult. “What do you mean?” he asked, if only to force Wong to continue. He couldn’t let himself be left in the dark, especially if this meant he had to explain to Stephen why his mentor would not see him.

“A few hours after the surgery, she came to. It had been the first time she woke up since the attack. I had been alone with her in the room, as we did not want to overwhelm her once she did awaken. It took her a few minutes to gain her senses, but once she had, the first thing she said…” Wong trailed off again, his hand clenching where it rested on top of a machine. He turned away for a moment, whatever memory he held weighing down heavily upon him.

Tony swallowed again. The obvious question lingered on his tongue, but the moment he opened his mouth, Wong spoke in a quiet, almost broken voice.

_“Why did you bring me back?”_


	14. What Day is it, Strange?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What day is it, Strange? Do you even remember? Or has time escaped your grasp, just like every other thought but madness?

_“Why did you bring me back?”_

The words still echoed through Tony’s head even as he returned to the nurses’ room. Seeing Stephen eat for the first time didn’t chase it away. Neither did his raspy voice forming their own sentences. Even when Stephen met his eyes for the first time, finally able to see the man staring back, nothing could scrub their existence away.

Even now, they still circled around and around, fighting against the conversation ringing in the nurses’ room.

“I am _not_ leaving the hospital,” Stephen grunted, his good hand fisted into his lap while the other was tucked behind his back. Tony was honestly surprised Stephen could connect his thoughts together enough to argue. Maybe that’s exactly why Stephen was fighting this, to avoid being treated as a child. That was hard to avoid when someone just… _breaks_ like that. “We are already short staffed.”

“What day is it, Strange?” Wong sighed, pinching the brim of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

Stephen stiffened up on the bed, and his mouth fell open with no answer in sight.

“Precisely why you need time to recover in peace. The risk of breaking down is far too high, and in this hospital, every risk must be taken into account and negated.” Wong’s eyes softened, if just slightly, out of what Tony hoped wasn’t pity. God knows how Stephen would react to that. “You have worked yourself mad. You may not come back the next time it happens.”

Tony couldn’t begin to imagine that. Losing yourself to madness created by your own mind to memories you’d rather forget. Something ached inside of him at the thought of losing Stephen to that madness again, that lost look in his eyes, empty and a husk to the rest of the world.

“You need to get out of this place, Doc,” Tony murmured from where he sat on Wong’s bed, with two beds separating them. Wong had already made utterly sure that Tony would understand that once Stephen returned to normal, behaving the same way as when he was catatonic would only send the doctor spiraling. That meant no touching, no holding, no coddling. They had to work off of Stephen’s cues to whatever he could remember.

Judging by what they’ve discovered so far, it wasn’t much. Stephen centered a tired glare at Tony. “I don’t even understand why you’re here at all, we don’t have the necessary equipment to even _try_ to examine your heart.”

Ouch. Tony may not admit it aloud, but damn, that hurt. He bit down onto the inside of his cheek to prevent any snap back. Be patient, he told himself. It wasn’t Stephen’s fault that his brain was broken. ...Well, technically it was, but telling Stephen that wouldn’t help the slightest.

“Tony is the one who brought you back to the hospital after you wandered off,” Wong said sharply, with enough of an edge to his voice to make Tony turn his head. Wong was actually standing up for him? What dimension was this and did he have to go back to his own?

Stephen gritted his teeth together and shook his head hard, like he could shake his memories back into place. “I do not need an escort. What I do need is to get back to work, to tend to Tao, and resume as normal.”

That time, Tony winced. Stephen had already started rampaging on about how he needed to see Tao, that he needed to help her in any way he could. Perhaps he didn’t remember the whole ‘having to sit there for hours to manually help Tao breathe,’ which may be for the best. That was already scorned into Tony’s mind hard enough as it was. The last thing they needed to add to Stephen’s fractured mind was that his mentor had basically wished for death.

“It does not matter, it has already been settled.”

“You are not my _nursemaid.”_

Stephen shook his head from side to side again, in any attempt to fight away the fog from his mind. It was clearing, he could feel it start to drift, but how long had he been underneath its spell? Hours? Days? Wong asked him for the day, and the only answer Stephen could find was Friday. Maybe Saturday at the latest. That had to be why Tony was here, right? Coming to fetch him for the stupid meeting.

He wasn’t going back. There was nothing that a little meeting could fix. He was far too broken for a couple chats a week to do anything but crush the pieces to dust.

Sucking in a deep breath, Stephen combed his left hand through his hair and swept the bangs back. He needed a shower. Anything to clear his head. It felt muddied, sluggish, and all the pieces were scrambled and torn apart. He had lost the image of the puzzle long ago, with blank pieces in his hands holding no color. Nothing fit together.

Looking up from the corner of his eyes, Stephen narrowed his gaze at Tony. A thought prodded his mind, one that he needed answers to. “I never told you where the hospital was. Have you been following me?”

“No!” Tony jerked, answering far too quick to alleviate suspicion. “I mean, not before all this. After you came to the meeting-”

“The _day,_ Stephen. I need an answer.” Wong was quick to cut Tony off, yanking Stephen’s attention back. Stephen’s stomach churned in on itself at the question.

What was he missing? First he had Christine tending to him as if he was nothing more than a newborn, pleading with him to eat as soon as he woke up, and now _Tony_ of all people was sitting in the nurses’ quarters, where he certainly should not be allowed in…

“Friday.”

A chill in the air made his heart pause in his chest. He could pinpoint the exact moment when the hope was lost in his abilities. They all stared at him, every person in the room, just staring at him. None made a sound. Maybe they didn’t breathe. Was he breathing? Stephen’s chest tightened.

“Saturday.”

Christine rested her head into her hands, palms pressed against her eyes as she shook her head in the slightest movements. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. What was wrong with him? Why was he _wrong?_  

“...Thursday?”

His voice broke without his consent, turning into a pathetic squeak. Had to be Thursday. _Had_ to be. The timeline in his head laid out before his eyes.

Wednesday morning…ish. Inventory counts. Tao takes him to bed. He sleeps. Maybe.

Wednesday afternoon. Tao is attacked. He remembers the blood, the reflection of the afternoon sun across the puddles. He remembers the constant countdown in his head, one, two, three, breathe, one, two, three, breathe. Pumping the oxygen bag. One, two, three, breathe. Watching the clock on the wall. One, two, three, breathe. Nine o’clock. Ten. Midnight. Three. One, two, three, breathe.

Thursday morning. Six twenty-eight am. Someone took the bag from his hand. He went to bed. And now he was here.

One, two, three, breathe.

Thursday, _Thursday,_ no other day, he hadn’t lost his mind, Thursday. Thursday, he wakes up and Tao is alive. They operated on her again. She was alive. They told him she was alive. She was awake. But he couldn’t see her. He snapped his head up and stared at the wall. At the clock. Eleven forty-nine. Still the morning. How was it morning? How did they operate again?

Friday? No, _Thursday._ One, two, three, _Thursday._

It couldn’t be past Thursday. Because that meant there was a meeting. Because that meant he interacted with people. Because that meant Tony could have followed him home. Because that meant he _lost his mind_ because he _couldn’t remember._  

“Deep breaths for me, Stephen.”

Stephen snapped back into himself, and he became hyper aware of _everything._ All of it flooded in with no boundaries to slow the current. Christine was sitting in front of him, hands millimeters away from his cheeks, so close that he could feel them by his facial hair. Tony was hovering to his left, Wong his right, and he was staring at the ground. His chest was tight, and his lungs burned with a cruel blaze.

“Breathe, one, two, three, out.”

No, don’t say that. He wasn’t mad. He wasn’t out of his mind. Pump the bag, one, two, three, pump the bag, one, two, three, breathe for Tao, one, two, three, pump, one, two, three-

_No._

The air that he sucked in felt like he swallowed a glacier, sending cold shudders through him. No, not again. He wasn’t losing himself again. Breathe. Just breathe. In and out. On his own. He blinked.

Then no one was there. The breaths evened out again, and the burning put to rest. Stephen looked up at the clock.

Two sixteen.

 _Two hours._ _Gone._

Just... gone. He blinked, and it was all gone.

“Are you back?”

The question came a few beds away, and Stephen nodded. His throat ached too much to speak. There was movement and then a weight to the bed to his left. He couldn’t raise his head. The strength had left him.

“It’s Monday.”

Stephen nodded again, even when the words wouldn’t sink into his mind.

“You need to eat.”

A plate sat onto his lap. There was muck spread across the paper. At one point, it might have been food. His left hand twitched at his side.

“I’m going to go home tomorrow for a day or two and get ready. Wong and Christine want you to stay on this floor until I come back. Think you can do that?”

Another nod. What choice does he have? Monday. He lost four days. They were just gone. But he hadn’t spent them all here.

“You gotta understand that they’re worried about you. _I’m_ worried about you. Shit, I’ve only known you for a few weeks, but this isn’t like you. This place is going to ruin you.”

“I’m saving lives.” His lips formed words that his brain could not find. “Here. In this place.”

Silence, and the weight on the bed lifted. Then it moved to the bed right across from him, and Stephen found himself to stare down at the battery sitting in his lap. His arms were crossed over it, leaning down onto the weight, while his fingers twitched along the cords.

“What about your life?”

What about it?

“I… I mean, I’m your friend, I care about your life. Even if you don’t, I still do.”

Hm. Odd to think about. Stephen blinked as he stared down at the slop.

“You can’t save lives like this either, Doc.”

He can’t save lives with a useless arm and a broken mind. Only one of those two are fixable.

A hand reached across the gap between them, but it stopped inches away. Then it rested back on top of the battery.

“Let me help you.”

* * *

Through the rest of the day, Stephen faded in and out. At times, he was alert and talking, and others, he was staring at the floor again. The food on his plate would disappear bit by bit, but Tony never saw Stephen actually eat it. That was something they would work on in his apartment.

As if there wasn’t an entire laundry list of problems to tackle.

“At least he’s coming back,” Tony muttered as he poked at the floating chunks in his soup with a bent spoon.

“Perhaps,” Wong agreed, sitting with his tea held between his hands. He had chosen to forgo the meal, only adding to Tony’s guilt to taking more food. But dammit, he wasn’t hungry very often. Might as well jump on it when he had the opportunity. Plus, he would give them ration cards to cover whatever the cost.

Christine was laying on her back, staring up at the ceiling with a dazed expression. She was gnawing at a celery stick, halfway hanging out of her mouth. Grabbing the stick, she waved it lazily at Tony. “You’re going to give us updates every day, on the day, and I will hunt you down if you skip,” she yawned, then shoved the stick back into her mouth.

The tired aura was infectious, or it may just be the strain of Stephen’s broken mind weighing upon them. Actually, it was a miracle they were not all zombies by this point between Stephen and Tao. “Maybe if you’d told me you guys had a phone in the first place,” Tony complained, waving his spoon back at her.

“Children,” Wong sighed, massaging his temple with one hand. “We are not a pediatric ward.”

Tony sighed dramatically and plopped onto his back, laying side by side with Christine. Most of the other civilians had already returned to the main hall to sleep, with only a few stragglers and workers lingering behind. It was as peaceful as this hospital could get, and for that he was grateful. The last thing they needed was a sudden attack and dozens of bleeding patients when they were down two doctors and the rest on the verge of exhaustion.

Staring up at the ceiling, Tony hummed. “So now what are we doing?”

Christine audibly crunched through the celery and chewed in thought. “Tomorrow morning, you go back home and get ready. Keep in touch with us for how much time you’ll need. We can either bring him to you or you come back to walk him home yourself. It’s up to you.”

While the thought of walking the entire distance between the apartments to the hospital and back again was not tempting, Tony knew that there would only be more questions when the others find out exactly where he was living. The North District was protected, almost insanely so. No one got in without either being on a residence list or accompanied by someone on the list. Now that he thought about it, that could be exactly why the district felt so… empty.

The image of the crowded entrance hall flashed through Tony’s mind again and he winced. So many people having to choose a hospital for the roof over their head, so many people who would take a nearly destroyed shack if just to have a place to call their own. He still had no idea how many rooms there were in the apartment building and who actually lived inside. 

“How about tonight?”

“Tonight we see if Strange’s condition improves or deteriorates. That will determine how long he may need to spend with you for recuperation,” Wong answered.

“And Tao?”

Silence. Tony flicked his gaze over to Wong, who was still staring down at the tea. Christine just continued eating her celery. Neither had answers for him. “I mean, this is gonna pass, right? She’s just tired.”

More silence.

The rest of their meal was spent in silence. The soup he ate felt like he was swallowing down the broken eggshells he was walking upon.

* * *

Night came sooner than Tony desired, having spent his time with the machines and away from the others. There were just too many people, it felt like. Constantly crowded. Constantly anxious. But with the machines, there was none of that. Only work. It didn’t matter what he worked on, as long as it was something that took his undivided attention.

It was away from the thought of Tao’s broken spirit and Stephen’s fractured memory. In some way, it recentered Tony back to what he was best at; fixing things.

He was starting to become accustomed to the daily grind of the hospital, and once the clock struck ten at night, most of the lights automatically turned off. It would have been nice for Tony to have realized the time so he _wasn’t_ digging through wires and thought he may have just shorted out the entire building.

“Shit!” he cussed, snapping out of the machine and quickly taking inventory over himself. He wasn’t electrocuted, and the machine hadn’t even been plugged into the wall. One glance to the clock sitting on the floor a few feet away and he cursed himself again. Lights out time. Tony may be a genius, but he was also an idiot at times. Dropping his tools back into the box, Tony gathered up his things and piled them on top of his battery. May as well take the tools back home with him, he’d need them for… something. He’ll figure it out when he got there.

Heaving the items into his arms, Tony closed the door behind him with his foot. One more night here, and he would be back to his apartment. Back into his bed. Back to his food and his tools and all his tinkering projects. The thought alone made a warm shiver run through his body. His bed was already calling to him… but before that, he had one more night in the nurses’ room.

And as soon as he stepped inside, his shoulders sagged. Stephen was still awake and was still sitting on the bed. But he at least raised his head to look up at Tony, meeting his eyes, so there was still progress. Stephen wasn’t a hollow body.

Taking in the rest of the room, Tony spotted three doctors who were already asleep, one of them being Wong. Christine was gone, and Tony assumed that was to be with Tao. That left a few empty beds… But…

Nah, he was gonna have to take the floor again.

With a heavy sigh, Tony walked over to the boxes stacked up against the wall. Certainly they would let him have a couple blankets for the night. After all, he _did_ fix their ultrasound machine which _did_ save Tao so… They were indebted to him. Blankets would work for now. Throwing a couple over his shoulder, Tony returned to the beds and tossed them onto the tile.

“You’re not intending to sleep on the _floor,_ are you?”

Stephen’s deep voice had Tony’s head spinning towards him, the fact that Stephen spoke without being prompted almost spooking him. He met the pale blue eyes, and noted that they were still unclear and foggy. It could just be exhaustion, too. Everyone was exhausted. Now that he thought about it, was there a time that anyone in this place got some damn rest?

“You got any better ideas?” Tony snorted, motioning to the other beds. “Probably don’t want me taking a bed from a doctor.” Technically, Tao’s bed was still unused, but it just felt… wrong. Even Tony wouldn’t cross that line.

Stephen’s eyes narrowed, and Tony wished he didn’t feel nearly as relieved as he did to see the emotions playing across his face. Stephen was thinking on his own. That alone should be celebrated, a small battle won, but there were still so many questions unanswered that victory felt like miles out of their reach.

Finally, Stephen shook his head and shifted on the bed, moving to the far right side of the mattress. “I may be an asshole, but it’ll be cold tonight. The heaters won’t be turned on yet to spare the power.” Grabbing at the blankets thrown over his bed, Stephen already was tucking himself beneath, turning his back to Tony. “Your body will thank you for it.”

“Aw, you really do like me,” Tony grinned, already tossing the blankets up onto the bed. Stephen flinched at the addition, but was already smoothing them out over himself. Not letting Stephen have a moment to change his mind, because he wasn’t getting rid of Tony at this point, Tony plopped down on the left side of the bed and laid on his side, curling the battery to his chest.

“Don’t push your luck.”

“I think I’ll push whatever I damn well please,” Tony huffed, drawing the blankets up over his body. Though he would wish for a good cuddle session, because those have been a blessing to wake up to, that part of the luck wouldn’t budge. Not unless Stephen slipped up in his sleep. Judging by his awareness now, and his lack of memory of the last few nights, that seemed like a stretch.

Tony wiggled himself deeper into the mattress, ignoring the squeaks of the mattress springs, before he finally found a comfortable position with him and Stephen back to back. Now if only he could… Take just a little more space…

Holding his breath, Tony slid himself closer to the radiating heat behind him. It was cold, so Stephen couldn’t possibly mind-

But the instant their backs touched, Stephen jerked and snapped out his left hand, pushing Tony away.

_“Don’t.”_

“Shit, sorry, I’m sorry,” Tony winced, wrapping his arms tight around the battery. “I just, there’s not a lot of room, and it’s easier-”

“Make room.”

And to think this was the same man who had clung to him endlessly for the past few days. Letting out a sigh, Tony tucked a blanket around himself to hold the battery to his chest, but found himself still teetering on the edge. Well, the last thing he needed was to lose the battery in his sleep, have it break apart when it smacked the ground and die... 

And so he waited, keeping his arms locked around the battery at all times, and listened to Stephen’s breath. Just wait until he falls asleep. Just wait. Wait…

No, he can’t wait. Balancing on the edge wasn’t how Tony planned on spending the entire night, especially as the blanket was doing almost nothing to hold the battery in place. Squeezing his eyes shut, Tony sucked in one deep breath and slid by what felt like millimeters until he finally sank back.

That’s when he felt his back press up against Stephen’s, and he froze. The man on his other side stiffened up again, and he braced himself for another push to get away, but then he… relaxed. The muscles unlocked one by one, until Tony realized he was the only one still tense. And so he dropped his guard carefully, and leaned in that little bit more. He took his time as he gained the inches, until their backs were flush up to the other.

Well. That worked out better than he expected.

Tony blinked as he waited for some response, because he was _sure_ Stephen wouldn’t let him get away with this for nothing… right?

“...Steph-”

“Just go to sleep.”

Okay, fine.

Huffing under his breath, Tony dropped his head onto the pillow again and focused on the heat on the other side of the bed. The comfort shouldn’t have helped him sleep as well as he did, but between one breath and the next, he was asleep.

* * *

Stephen woke before Tony did. That alone was a good sign. What wasn’t a good sign was that he was still arguing with Wong to be allowed to see Tao. The arguing woke Tony up, no matter how low they attempted to keep their voices. Fluttering his eyes open, Tony recognized the shapes as Stephen was sitting on the bed to the left of his, while Wong sat across.

“If she needs someone to stay with her, then let it be me. If she needs something, I will fetch another doctor, but I can’t just _sit here-”_

“You just went through a very traumatic episode, and whether you choose to admit it or not, you are still suffering under it. You will not go back on duty, and I cannot let you see her.”

“Why won’t you let me? What happened?”

“That’s none of your concern-”

“Bullshit, it’s _all_ my concern! If I had protected her-”

“There was nothing you could have done-”

“I could have stopped this, and she wouldn’t be dying.”

“She’s not dying, sh-”

“Then _let me see her!”_

“Girls, you’re both pretty, just for God’s sake, keep it down…!” Tony groaned as he sat up, pulling on his best glare to the two doctors. Judging by their lack of remorse, it wasn’t his better glares. “It’s, what, six in the morning? People are trying to sleep!”

“Correction - _you’re_ trying to sleep. And it’s nearly ten,” Stephen grunted, barely giving Tony a glance over his shoulder. “Everyone else has been awake for at least an hour. You’ve slept in more than the infants are allowed.”

“Fine, I'll be the baby of the family and let me go back to sleep!” Tony complained, dropping back down into the mattress. He grabbed a pillow and shoved it against his face, which did nothing more than make it hard to breathe. It also didn’t deter the argument, as seconds later, it was continuing.

“There has to be a reason other than my ‘sanity’ to keep me from seeing her. What happened to her?”

“Her wounds are more than skin deep, she’s having trouble emotionally coping with the trauma. She just needs time by herself to rest.”

Throwing the pillow down, Tony sat back up and grabbed at the battery and the toolbox. This wasn’t an argument he was about to sit through, not when he knew Stephen wouldn’t be getting answers. “I’m going home,” he grumbled, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. “At least I can get some _real_ sleep there.”

“Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out,” Stephen snarked back.

“I didn’t know you cared so much about it,” Tony chirped, making sure to give a little shake as he walked past the beds. “You’ll miss me. That’s why I’ll call the moment I get home just to let you know I’m safe.”

“Don't bother,” Stephen grumbled out, and Tony could almost feel his eyes burning into his back as he walked to the door. “There will be much better use of our time than prattling on the phone. I’m sure there will be a fresh coat of paint that needs watching over.”

The fact that Stephen had it in him to dial up the snark made Tony smile, something he didn’t care to hide away. He missed this, honestly. There hadn’t been much to feed off of back at the meetings, but Stephen had been so quick and sharp. The war had a habit of putting a damper on people’s spirits, so having someone up to par with his wit was something of a dream.

Turning around, Tony blew a kiss to Stephen. “I’ll make sure to call _extra hard,_ then,” he grinned, then glanced down to Wong who was watching all of this unfold with a look of pure exasperation. “Give Christine my love.”

Wong waved him off, not giving him a second glance. Tony was at least use to his antics by now. Spinning back around after soaking in the pride of Stephen’s momentarily flushed expression, Tony pushed the door open and made his way out of the hospital.

For the first time in what felt like weeks, the sun was out and the skies were clear. Maybe there were even some birds singing. Either way, all was right in the world. The worries could be put to rest for now, because it wasn’t Tony’s problem. Sure, it would be later, but for right now, he was going home. Back to his apartment, where there were no sick and injured, there was room to breathe and food to eat, and insanity wasn’t hiding in every shadow.

Was it wrong for him to want to get away from all that? Especially since the doctors and others lived it every day? Probably. But Tony didn’t care. This was his reward, his freedom. He had done a good deed. A few, actually.

The guards still gave him funny looks as he strode past, but who cares! His bed was calling, and he knew that the first thing he would do once he got home was _take a shower._

God, everyone in that hospital _reeked._

Tony was even humming a tune as he walked up to the apartment complex, fishing out his keys and unlocking it with haste. First, he was going to take a shower. Then he was going to nap. _Then_ he was going to tell all of this to Pepper. _And then_ he’d call the hospital if he felt like it. But for now, this was his day to do whatever he wanted, because he _deserved it._

He threw the door open to his apartment and sucked in a deep breath of air. Yes, he deserved some rest. He deserved some time alone.

But as he stood there in the doorway, all of his plans slipped away. Because for the first time in days… 

He was alone.

Tony didn’t realized how much he hated being alone.


	15. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The novelty of home wore off as soon as Tony took the few steps inside the apartments. It's only when he's alone that he realizes just... how lonely his life has been. It may be the first time Tony actually wanted to go to a hospital.

Tony’s body collapsed in a heap onto the bed, and he couldn’t even enjoy the way he sank into what had to be at least three inches of blanket bliss and comfort. He couldn’t enjoy the fact that he was curled up in blankets that had to be the finest in the district, because he had the ration cards to spend it on, or that his mattress was practically new compared to the mess others slept on.

The shower was a bust. The water hadn’t been turned on yet, and he wasn’t about to waste the water he had stowed away in cabinets just to wash himself down. At this point, he didn’t even care.

All he wanted right now was something to _do._

Tony rolled himself onto his back, quite literally shoving the battery to the other side of the mattress. It was ridiculous how much space his bed had. He could stretch himself out and still not be able to reach the edges. And _no,_ that wasn’t because he was short. It was just a big bed. He stared up at the ceiling, connecting small cracks and imperfections. How old was this apartment? Did he care enough to find out? Probably not.

And so he rolled over onto his side. Maybe just sleep. He was exhausted, after all. There was nothing else to do.

Pepper was who knows where, maybe at the market or just out in general, but she wasn’t at her apartment. Wandering the halls led to no one coming out to yell at him for his pacing, so there was no one else interesting to talk to. He was much too tired to go to the market, he wasn’t hungry enough to make food, fuck, he wasn’t in the mood to make ‘use’ of his time alone! Not that he had any material to work with.

Post-war life was rough with no new porn material to jerk off to. _Especially_ the lack of Tinder. Maybe he would have been able to find someone who could get kinky with a battery.

The first thing he was going to do once he had the tools was rebuild the internet. Somehow. He’d find a way to do it somehow. Then he’d get phones back online for more than simple calls and texts, and get them back into people’s hands. The whole ‘everyone must turn in their smartphones for their precious metals’ thing was a sham if he ever saw it, and was probably to further bottle up the citizens.

All this freedom shit sure went down the drain the moment war broke out, didn’t it?

Dragging a pillow under his head, Tony closed his eyes. There was too much to think about, everything spinning in his mind. He wasn’t going to be able to sleep like this, he could already tell.

So he may as well make some use out of today.

Tony started with cleaning, because that’s what normal people do when they expect company, right? Though Tony was less of organizing and more… throwing all the scrap metals and projects into a closet and managing to close the door behind it. He kicked a few screws and parts underneath the couch and gazed across his apartment. If Stephen was going to be staying here, then he needed a place to sleep.

So the obvious thing was for Tony to plop down on the couch to ‘test’ it and ensure that it was as comfortable as humanly possible. Stretching himself out across the cushions, Tony placed the battery onto the floor and grabbed the remote. If he was lucky, there may be some signals floating around.

As soon as he turned the TV on, though, all he was greeted with was static. Of course.

He let out a groan and tossed the remote back onto the ground, not even bothering to turn it off. The static at least gave off some noise and helped make things a little less lonely. So now what was he going to do? Right now, nothing, as Tony was perfectly content to close his eyes and curl himself deeper into the sofa.

That is until he felt something jab hard into his back.

“Fuck!” Tony hissed, jerking up and scrambling to a sitting position. He rubbed at the sting in his back and glared down at the cushion. Of course the springs were starting to poke through. Shitty couch. He made a small reminder to throw some more blankets over the top and scooped up the battery. Alright, now what? He tested the couch. The TV was shit. He couldn’t sleep.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” Tony hissed at the empty air, waving his hand in some random direction. Honestly, there was nothing for him to do. Maybe go to the market after all? Was it worth it? Shit, no he was just spinning himself in circles now. Just… decide on something to do.

Well, he needed to charge the battery. While he knew that a full charge could last him a week, he wasn’t about to take any chances. So that meant that Tony would be strapped down to the bed while he waited.

“Piece of shit battery,” he muttered under his breath as he walked back into the bedroom, dropping the battery on the nightstand and fumbling for the cord. Tony had never let the battery run down more than five days, and he wasn’t going to push his luck. This was his heart in this little box, and if plugging it in now and then kept him alive, then so be it. There were times where he would charge it every night, just in case the electricity would go out again. The lowest he let the battery go was where the light turned red. If it started to beep, that would be the last sign before the battery went into emergency mode and cut off the power. Tony had yet to hear the beep. He never wanted to.

Tony squinted at the cords and hooked up the cords to their designated spots. It wasn’t _technically_ supposed to be charged this way, but Tony was out of options other than getting a new battery every single week. Maybe he can put his genius brain to good use and find a different solution once the world was less shit.

“Whenever that was.”

Did Tony like hearing himself talk? Apparently. Because that’s what he was doing now to fill in the silence.

Once he hooked the battery up to the thick power cords, Tony dropped back onto the bed. Now what? Well, he still didn’t have anything to jerk off to. He doubted that with the stress he’d been under the last few days that he’d get much out of it anyway. He rolled onto his side and started dragging over the blankets until they made a sort of mound. No, Tony wasn’t lonely, absolutely not.

It just… was nice having someone to curl up to at night. That’s all.

Tony pulled a pillow beneath his head and curled up closer to the lump of blankets, and he tried to ignore the taunts in the back of his mind that he was being a child. It wasn’t Tony’s fault that he was alone. And it wasn’t Tony’s fault that Stephen had been a good cuddler. Kinda. When he wasn’t completely out of his mind.

“Asshole,” he huffed under his breath, to nothing in particular. Maybe to Stephen for making him crave this type of attention again. Maybe to the world for doing this in the first place. Or maybe to himself for leaving the hospital. Whatever the reason, Tony did his best to silence his thoughts as he closed his eyes, curling up to the mound as close as he allowed himself.

There were no dreams, because Tony didn’t expect any. Very rarely was he given dreams, and that may be for the best. He feared what he would see within them. If Tony would find himself back in that cave. Back under the hot lights, the rope tied around his ankles and wrists, the water being gushed over his covered face again and again for answers… For his compliance. 

But this sleep, nap, whatever you want to call it, was quiet. It was dreamless, and for that he was thankful. What he wasn’t so thankful for was the quiet chirping of his battery signalling a full charge.

Cracking open his eyes, the first thing Tony recognized was that it was dark. He must have passed out for a good amount of time, sleeping away the strain in his own bed. The second thing he noticed was the mound laying beside him.

Did Stephen have another bad night?

“Hey…” Tony mumbled, reaching out and carefully touching the mound. What confused his dreary mind was that the shape just sank at his touch, not at all a solid shape of a human being.

That’s because it wasn’t, his mind so helpfully explained. It was the mound of blankets and pillows.

That’s fine, though. Tony rubbed at his face with one hand and sat up with the assistance of the other. Stephen might be eating. Or maybe he was allowed to see Tao. That was good. That meant she was getting better and wasn’t talking crazy shit like how she wanted to die. That hadn’t been good.

As he still rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he listened. No one was talking to him and he couldn’t hear Christine’s snoring. They must already be waiting for him at the equipment room. Maybe they’ll bring some food with and they can talk some more… Tony could fix the machines, he could ask if he could do something with the extra parts… Then he could see Tao himself…

“How’s she doing?” he yawned, then finally opened his eyes.

...He wasn’t at the hospital.

The realization dawned on him as he stared at his walls, with some mismatched curtains shielding from the sinking sun and the paint starting to chip. There was no sound other than the buzzing of the TV still left on in the background, and his question had been answered with silence.

Just more silence.

He didn’t like the silence so much anymore.

Well, it was late enough that Pepper had to be back from whatever she was doing. She was more strict than most of the guards when it came to curfew, or maybe that was just for Tony to stay out of trouble. Either way, she better be home by now. Tony unplugged the battery from the charging cord and shuffled his way out of bed.

Heaving the battery onto his shoulder, Tony wandered out of the apartment and glanced down the hall. There was no noise, leaving Tony to once again wonder if anyone else lived in this damn building, so he whistled a tune to break the silence. Pepper only lived a few doors down, anyway. He combed through his bangs with his fingers in any attempt to look less like someone who just rolled out of bed, even if it was the absolute truth, and walked up to her door.

“Hey, Pep,” he called, knocking his knuckles against the door. “You up for something to eat? Or, I don’t know. Hang out? I got gossip.”

Nothing.

Tony frowned and knocked on the door again. “Pepperoni? Peppini? Peppersnepper?”

Still nothing.

Furrowing his brows, Tony reached down and gave the handle a quick turn. Locked. She wasn’t home? But it had to be getting close to curfew…

“If you’re ignoring me, at least let me know that you’re ignoring me so I don’t freak out?”

When nothing happened, Tony had to swallow down the surge of anxiety. Pepper _never_ missed curfew. At least, not unless Tony had also missed curfew. She would _always_ let him know where she was going if she wouldn’t make it back home.

“Dammit, Potts,” Tony muttered as he turned away from the door. Looks like he was going to go hunting for her. At least there was a very short list of places where she would be. That is unless she got caught out past curfew.

Being picked up by the cops or military, whichever since they were practically the same at this point, was a pain in the ass. Sitting in confinement and waiting for someone to pick you up was even worse than being in the drunk tank. The guards would be able to radio in for Tony at the very least and check on the checkpoint's holding centers.

Walking back down the hall, Tony glanced through the window. The sun was almost down. Pepper _definitely_ should have been home by now. He opened the front door of the apartment building and glanced around. Nope, she wasn’t hanging around outside, either. Tony huffed. Looks like he was asking the guards.

The Wall was only a couple blocks away, Tony had the benefit of being able to see it out his apartment window. It was a comfort he hadn’t expected to appreciate. Most of his life, seeing walls put up around him would leave him anxious to break them down, to avoid being trapped. Now, though, it was protection from whatever the hell was going outside The Wall.

There were several walls that split up the districts, some only surrounding a small area, others being complete borders. Tony didn’t know exactly when the walls went up, as he’d only been taken to this area after his ‘rescue,’ but judging by the graffiti, bullet holes and damage, it must have been not long since the war began. 

This had been one of the first places to fall, after all. But now it was in the hands of military protection and security.

His eyes flicked to the spraypaint on the walls, some of it already worn away and others resprayed over. District numbers, wall sections, all code that Tony had no care to understand. All he knew was that he was safe in these walls.

The gate that led in and out of this particular section was right up the street, and there were two guards on duty. They were leaning against the gate casually, one with a cigarette between his lips while the other was fiddling with a pack of cards.

“So you’re gonna pick a card-”

“It’s not going to work, pup.”

“I got it this time, I swear. Pick a card.”

The younger of the two fanned out the cards and held them out to the older guard. Tony bit back a chuckle as the other just rolled his eyes and plucked out one of the cards.

These two had been the main guards for their section for the entirety of Tony living here. It was their job to watch over The Wall, see over who came in and out, and even run security if any of the civilians needed help.

“You got it? Know which one it is?”

“Yeah. I got it.”

“Put it back in the pile.”

Another eye roll, and the guard slid the card back in place. The younger bunched the cards back up into a deck and shuffled them, his brow furrowed with concentration and his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth. The older looked on with a soft smirk. Then the younger finally pulled out a card.

“This one!”

“Nope.”  
  
 _“Dammit.”_ The younger huffed and shoved the card back into the deck and shuffled, then pulled out one more card.   
  
“Nah uh.”

More shuffling. By this point, Tony knew he had to end the younger’s suffering.

“Sam. Cliff. You see Pepper anywhere?”

The cards spilled out of Sam’s hands, with a feverish attempt to catch them as they fell. The smirk immediately fell from Cliff’s face and his grip instinctively reached back to the gun strapped to his chest.

 _Shit._ “Hey, chill, it’s just me!”

“I know,” Cliff muttered, squinting dark eyes back at Tony. His fingers grazed across the barrel of the gun until he dropped his arm. Tony should have known better than to surprise either of them.

Cliff was a former soldier. A _real_ soldier, not like the ones who patrolled The Walls or Districts. All Tony knew was that Cliff was sent as part of the Guard as a way to reintegrate with society, so whatever had happened out in the field had _definitely_ fucked him up. Sam, on the other hand, was practically a newborn when it came to war. He’d never gone outside the borders. Hopefully he never will have to. Whenever Tony had the chance to talk to Sam, it reminded Tony of a boy still believing in the grandeur of being a hero. If the guy ever saw battle, Tony knew that he wouldn’t make it.

Looking at them though from an outsiders point of view, many would think the opposite. Cliff was lean and pale, ghostly silver hair fanning across his forehead or swept back. Sam was muscular and tanned, with long, dark hair and piercing blue eyes. He looked like a man who would rip out your throat for looking at him wrong. Yet Tony knew better, especially as Sam fumbled with the cards.

“H-hey,” Sam squeaked, already scooping up the cards that were scattered across the cracked concrete road. “Uh, what did you need?”

“Pepper. Has she come back yet?”

“Don’t you have a phone?” Cliff grunted, bringing the cigarette back to his lips and taking in a deep drag. He held the smoke before finally letting it filter back out through his lips. Sam made sure to make a show out of coughing and fanning away the smoke from himself.

Sam glared up at Cliff. “That’s going to kill you one day.”

“I’ll be perfectly fine if this is what does it,” Cliff muttered as he took another draw.

At the same time that the two had their little lover’s quarrel, Tony was sure that he was the most idiotic genius the world had ever seen. Of course, his phone. Hoping that the two were distracted enough with whatever they were doing, Tony crept away and tried to naturally rush back to the apartment. He knew he looked like an idiot, but he didn’t care at the moment. He’d acted like an idiot around those two enough as it was ever since he started living here.

As soon as he was back inside the apartments, Tony darted for his phone and flipped it open. Just as he had expected, there were messages all from Pepper.

 _Pepsi Max: I’m staying with Happy for the night_ _  
_ _Pepsi Max: No not that way_ _  
_ _Pepsi Max: Get your mind out of the gutter_ _  
_ _Pepsi Max: I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon_   
Pepsi Max: Tell the boys hello for me because I know you forgot to check your phone and asked them if I was home

Pepper knew him better than anyone should have the displeasure to know.

Tony groaned and closed out of the message, knowing that texting her back this late at night would only confirm her thoughts. There were other messages and contacts and he flicked through each of them in turn.

He sent at least six different messages to Rhodey, even when he knew that there would be no response. Rhodey was out with some government shit, who knows what. Hopefully he would be coming home soon.

Bruce had sent him several messages at this point, day by day, that Tony had chosen to ignore. He honestly wished that it didn’t have to get awkward between them, since talking to Bruce was intellectually stimulating in a way that he hadn’t had a chance to in years. Unless he started talking about what he knew about Stephen’s arm, though, Tony would hold his silence.

The hospital only had a landline phone, so there would be no casual texts sent that way, and calling may be a disturbance that Tony didn’t want to make. Apparently their phone was their primary communication not only to other districts but to other hospitals far away and in different sectors. Just one phone for all of that. It wouldn’t be Tony’s place to take up the time with some random gossip and passing time.

Tossing the phone onto the couch, Tony plopped down next to it, thankfully avoiding the loose spring. Well, now what? There was no one to talk to, at least no one that he hadn’t just embarrassed himself in front of, there was nothing to do… So Tony did what he always did when he didn’t know what to do.

He just started doing things.

First he tried the shower again. This time, the water came through without much difficulty. Then began the long process he’d repeated so many times over the last few months. Tony bagged up the battery and placed it on the counter, the wires still strung along and connected to his chest. With the battery out of the way, it allowed Tony to start working to protect the most important part; the magnet.

This was always tricky. Tony also hated the fact that he had to deal with it in the first place. A genius like him should be able to find a way to replace it, or just get rid of it entirely. Remove the shrapnel that was so close to his heart. But no, he had to deal with this stupid-ass battery and magnet for as long as it took for him to figure out a different solution, or just to die trying.

Tony ran his fingers across where the skin was starting to heal over the edges, attempting to swallow up the magnet into his chest. Hopefully he wouldn’t get some sort of metal poisoning, it would have to be the least interesting way to die. He shrugged and grabbed at the roll of plastic wrap sitting next to the battery. No use wallowing when the water could be shut back off any second.

He wrapped the plastic around his chest with little difficulty, the only defense against the water that may try its best to electrocute him. Now that he thought of it, that could be a less interesting way to die. Pepper finds him naked in his tub after shocking himself in the shower. He just hoped his body wouldn’t be too wrinkly by the time she found him.

Tony’s priorities were an odd mix.

Only once he taped down the edges of the wrap did he finally turn on the water and step beneath the spray. Immediately, his body relaxed and the last few days started to wash away. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back into the spray, letting his mind drift away. Away from this war-torn land, from this apartment, from this shitty battery plugged to his chest… Washing away the stench of hospital and letting it run down the drain with every second that passed.

Tony may have stayed there forever underneath the spray had it not been for the water sputtering to a stop a few minutes later. His eyes fluttered open and he glared at the showerhead. “Fine, keep your fucking water,” Tony grumbled, wiping at his eyes and stepping out of the tub. He dried quickly enough and had the displeasure of tearing the tape off of his chest. Even after so many cycles of this, it never stung any less.

With the plastic peeled off and his body semi-dried, Tony wrapped the towel around his waist and wandered back into the living room. It was just past nine at night. Probably time to eat.

Tony wandered his way to his fridge and opened the door. The light inside greeted him to a barren wasteland, where there was a bottle of something that might be alcohol, some definitely squishy carrots and vegetables about to spoil.

It was the same that were being feasted upon at the hospital. That people ate every day to survive. Tony only ate them because he was too lazy to do anything else with his ration cards. He didn’t go to the kitchen for a serving of guilt.

The fridge door closed with a click and Tony abandoned the kitchen for the bedroom. He just couldn’t be bothered. So he dumped his body onto the bed and sat the battery down onto his nightstand. Sleep would make the time pass, he told himself.

As he curled up to the mound of blankets, Tony stared at the folds of the sheets. Just sleep. That’s all he could bring himself to do right now. But as he stared at the shadows, Tony regretfully admitted to himself that even that was out of his capacity.

Damn his conscious. It had a habit of acting up at the worst times. Like any time.


	16. Spilled Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Tony decides he's going to do something, then dammit, he's gonna do it. Unless he gets distracted. This time, though, the distraction is much more than a small divergence. It's the answers he's been seeking.

Alright. Enough wasting time. Enough wandering the apartment waiting for something to happen or someone to call. Tony was going to get something done today.

What exactly he was going to get done was something he still wasn’t sure about, but no matter. By the end of the day, something was going to be accomplished. The first thing was dragging himself out of bed. 

He had to deconstruct the blanket mound next to him to keep himself warm that night, leaving his bed feeling emptier than usual. But that was fine. Soon, he would have Stephen coming to stay in the apartment. Even if Stephen didn’t want to share the bed, that at least is another person to share the space with him?

Tony settled for finally eating the squishy vegetables in his fridge, resolving to restock it for Stephen tonight. There, that’s what he was going to do. Get food. With a soft apple still in his hand, Tony walked to the window and parted the curtains. It was cloudy outside, as if that was a surprise. Maybe that would prevent the market from crowding up today.

Shit, today was Wednesday, wasn’t it? Fresh food was coming into stock. If people were desperate enough, they’d wait through snow and hail while standing in line for something to eat. Well damn.

With a sigh, Tony let the curtain fall back into place and walked out of his bedroom, letting his gaze flick to the wall and to the make-shift map he was still detailing. There were still so many things in this sector that he was discovering day by day. He’d walk out a little farther, a little deeper into other districts.

He paused if just to look a little closer. The Central District was the main grounds where all the Districts mingled. It was where the marketplace was, where their therapy group was meeting. It was almost odd that the hospital wasn’t included into the Central District, but he wouldn’t press for details. Maybe they locked down the East District, where Stephen was, separately.

The West and the South, though… Those were the ones that Tony had yet to explore. Even mentioning them to Cliff and Sam, even to Pepper, gave him stiff commands to not bother. Stay in the Central and the North. They were the safe zones. The rest… Well, Tony already saw what the East District was like, and that was with a hospital standing in the center of it all. Wong’s story of the riots ran through his head again. West District. God knows what the South District must be like in comparison.

He shuddered and forced himself to keep walking. Not today, he told himself. That was a mission for another day. If he was really going to be spending an obscene amount of his life within these walls in this particular sector, then Tony was going to have to know every inch.

Tony threw on a jacket and grabbed a few empty cloth bags for the food, throwing the battery in one to make carrying easier, and stepped out into the hall. He locked his door and was about to walk to the front door when a thought occurred to him. He hadn’t checked his mail in a while.

Yes, while the rest of the world was fucked up, there was still snail mail to be had. At least junk mail had been removed, with almost no businesses to send them. Now, they were mostly government notices on the war, notices for inside the sector such as curfew changes or events, sometimes snippets of life outside the walls, maybe even a letter from Rhodey. While he had been expecting any of those, the second Tony opened up his mail, his stomach dropped.

More ration cards.

They practically burst out of the open door, spilling out and dropping at his feet. Entire books of them. Even as he numbly dug through the pile for anything else, hell even junk mail, all he found were more books of ration cards.

Dammit.

Tony gritted his teeth together as he scooped the books up and dumped them into one of the bags. In all honesty, the amount was no different from any other time. They had just piled up. By this point, he may as well use them for kindling for fire or to wipe his ass. The bag felt like it weighed more than the one containing his battery, but that may just be his guilt stacking on top.

Maybe he’ll drop these off at the hospital tonight.

With that lingering thought, Tony finally stepped out of the apartment and walked to the gate.

Just as expected. Sam and Cliff were still doing the noble duty of guarding, and had it not been for the constant presence of the assault rifles strapped to their backs and the camo green, they’d just be two normal people chatting by the gate.

Sam was sitting down on the ground, leaning his back against the gate while Cliff was… twirling a knife in his hand.

Tony stopped short and narrowed his eyes.

“The trick is,” Cliff was saying, his eyes focused on the blade, “to grasp the blade as you would a hammer. Firm. Do not be dainty with the blade, or else it will slip.”

“Won’t you cut yourself?”

“Not if you know what you’re doing.”

Cliff caught what appeared to be some sort of combat knife and turned it, pinching the blade between his thumb and his fingertips. He leaned down and held it out to Sam. “This is a beginner’s grasp. We will focus on a half-spin first.”

Sam squinted up at Cliff. “There’s different spins? You don’t just chuck it and have it stick?”

There was a sound that _might_ have been either a cough or even a scoff, maybe even a laugh if you listened hard enough. The fact that it was coming from Cliff, though, made Tony doubt that last one. “And this is why we’re starting at the beginning. Patience.”

As soon as the last word left his lips, Cliff spun around and threw the knife, easily spinning three times around before sinking the blade into a previously knife scarred tree that had to be a good twenty feet away.

“That was _awesome.”_

“Yes it was,” Cliff smirked, walking to the tree and pulling the knife free by the handle. “Now, I want you to stand right here-”

“Hate to interrupt this cute bro bonding, but can you let me out?” Tony asked, motioning to the bags he was carrying. “I gotta get to the market before it starts pouring.”

Almost immediately, the smirk fell from Cliff’s face and turned blank again. He always had a habit of shutting himself in when it came to his duty, or at least when anyone else approached. Even with other guards, Cliff would be silent. Not with Sam, though. They were always stationed together, now, probably because no one else was willing to work with Cliff.

Sam jumped up to his feet, already scrambling for the gate. “Try not to stay out too late, Cliff said it’s gonna storm tonight. Feels it in his tired, old man bones.”

“I am not old,” Cliff grumbled, and Tony couldn’t help but keep an eye on the knife between his fingers as he played with the blade. “You’re just a pup. I’m sure I have food older than you.”

“You might have to face facts, Clifford. Your hair is going gray. You’re getting old,” Tony added, his grin growing wider. Cliff’s sharp eyes darted back to him at the name, and if looks could kill, Tony honestly would have been dead decades ago, but he certainly would be even more dead now.

“Hilarious,” Cliff ran his fingers through his silvery hair, brushing it away from his eyes. The unique color had always fascinated Tony. “I am only a year older than you, Stark.”

“So, _so_ old.”

“Hey, I’m not a pup,” Sam whined, only proving Cliff’s point. “I’ll be twenty-eight in a month.”

“You’re a pup until you’ve killed your first enemy. That’s when you become a wolf.”

Tony winced and looked away, if just to not see the seriousness that overtook Cliff’s expression. That was Cliff’s special power. Turning any good mood sour in just a few words. There seemed to be no way for any random person to make Cliff so much as smile. He was just so… sterile and cold.

Yet as Cliff’s dark eyes were still focused on Sam, Tony saw something there. A softness, almost wistful.

“This is still war, kid. You aren’t a man until you’ve killed another. That’s when you change, and when you decide which path you want to follow,” Cliff drawled, his hands still on the knife and running his thumb against the blade. Sam swallowed under Cliff’s gaze, but couldn’t break it. It was like the words were haunting them.

“I mean,” Tony muttered again, unable to keep his own mouth shut for the life of him and also trying to break the morbid mood, “it’s technically post-war…”

“I was joking, power source.”

Sam finally was able to break Cliff’s gaze, barking out a laugh that sounded a bit too forced. Tony only bit on the inside of his cheek to hold back a sharp retort. Yeah, joking. If he was really joking, Cliff had to have the blackest humor Tony ever encountered, but he couldn't say that aloud. Snapping back at Cliff was a great way to get that knife thrown into his dick.

“Actually,” Cliff continued, looking over Tony from top to bottom, “I can’t even call you a power tower, you’re much too short. You’re more like a portable generator.”

“Okay, will you just open the gate or not?” Tony groaned, marching past the both of them and staring at the gate, like his willpower and embarrassment alone will force it to move. Sam was laughing again, harder now, but he still scanned his ID against the gate. It beeped and the gate drew open for him. Tony didn’t bother passing a glance back, especially as he could feel his ears starting to burn. If they weren’t the ones in charge of making sure no one jumped the nine-foot fence at night, Tony may have snapped back, but he’d rather live to see the next day.

The walk to the marketplace was never that interesting. Sometimes he’d see people, sometimes he saw houses that were actually lived in, and other times he saw the destruction the war had caused. All of it was committed to memory by now, and were just landmarks.

The burned-out SUV that had already been looted even before the embers had cooled? Turn left. Pieces of a barricade that he could only assume failed at their purpose? Go straight through. What once was a school but was now crumbling and in ruins? You’ve gone too far and you should have turned at the decaying cars abandoned on the road. All had been sucked of their gas years ago. 

The final landmark came in the chain link fence with two guards posted outside. Unlike back at the North District where it was mostly two pairs of guards to watch the morning and night shifts, these rotated often. Probably because almost anyone was willing to work any job for a stack of ration cards. With a nod, the guard opened the gate and Tony walked inside.

Tony took in a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. People. He used to hate how many people there were in the market, all shoved together and clamouring over something as small as a pot and pan. Now, the loud droning of voices was welcomed more than ever before. He melted into the crowd with ease, with exactly no particular direction he was heading. He just let the crowd take him to whatever he could find first.

At first, he just gazed at the tables and stalls he walked past, waiting for something to catch his eye. There was a Gameboy in a stall that wasn’t there before, and he momentarily thought of buying it to give Stephen something to distract himself with. Then he remembered the sorry state of his right hand and thought better. Something that didn’t involve hands. That took out drawing, writing, typing, playing… Damn, this was going to be harder than he thought. What can you do without hands?

So he kept walking. He walked past the ‘soup kitchen’ food stalls, where people were lined up for any kind of a meal, just like in the hospital. Then there were actual sale stalls that were just as full, where even just trying to work through the crowd came with accusations of cutting in line, which would sometimes lead to fist fights. This time, Tony got lucky and slipped through without incident.

Then there were familiar barks, almost making him jump out of his skin. The breeder came a few times a week with new lots of dogs, some bred and others feral ones he managed to contain. Looking at the pen now, he saw a mixture of young yet muscular pit bulls, shepherds, and plenty others he couldn’t pinpoint the breed. He’d thought of getting one for Pepper, but it always fell through. The apartments weren’t a proper place to keep a large dog, and keeping it outside was too cruel. He wondered how this person could sell out of the dogs so often when so little people had proper homes?

“A hundred blue cards for the mixes, twenty red for the purebloods,” the breeder called out, motioning to the dogs clamoring against the gate.

 _Fuck,_ that was expensive. Even by Tony’s standards. Even when he had a bag stocked full of an assortment of cards, buying a dog would wipe about half the stock he had on him. When he stared back at the breeder with wide eyes, the other man just shrugged. “Ain’t cheap to breed, so it ain’t cheap to buy. You don’t got the cards, you don’t get the dog.”

“Need two pits,” a man growled out behind him, shoving Tony aside with no hesitation.

“Watch it!” Tony hissed, immediately pulling the bag holding the battery into his arms. Though the second he glared up at the other man, he immediately wish he hadn’t.

The man was _huge,_ muscles bursting at the seams of his clothing, crude tattoos all across any patch of visible skin, and to top it all off, had a nasty scar across his cheek like he’d been sliced. The breeder, though, wasn’t phased.

“Do I wanna know what happened to the last two?” he grunted, glancing back into the pen and looking at the dogs.

“One a’em got good blood. Other one was shit.”

“Right.” Sighing, the breeder pulled a red marker out from his back pocket and squeezed his way into the pen. Immediately, the dogs crowded around his ankles, some jumping up, others biting at his pants and trying to drag him. “Pick.”

The man studied the pit bulls, most of which were only pups, then pointed to a mottled brown that was trying to nip at the breeder’s ankles and then a bulky black one muscling his way through the crowd. With quick motions, the breeder grabbed each pup by the scruff and held them still long enough to mark their forehead with the marker. Looking closer, Tony could see several of the dogs were already marked. Some with numbers, others with symbols… The two the man picked were marked with a cross.

“Cards,” the breeder said, slowly working his way back out of the pen and locking the gate shut behind him. As expected, the burly man reached into his pocket and took out two full books of red ration cards. As he did, the breeder grabbed the man’s hand and turned it, studying the back of his hand. All Tony could see was a few random circles tattooed onto his skin. He furrowed his brow, then finally nodded and took the cards from his hands.

“If Boss gets a winner, I’ll put in a good word for ya’,” the man grunted.

“Not interested.”

“You’ll change yer mind when the cards dry up.”

With those ominous words, the larger man stepped away and melted back into the crowd. Tony stood there for what felt like too long, looking between the breeder and the dogs that were back to crowding the fence. Questions stood on the tip of his tongue, but after exchanging a look with the breeder, Tony realized he didn’t want the answers after all.

So he kept walking. Again. He did that for a while, going from booth to booth, being watched like a hawk like he was going to steal the stupid trinkets left out on the tables, shit he wouldn’t take even if it _was_ free, and had at least three different people stop him and ask to buy off his battery. Each attempt ended with a glare and a good, old-fashion ‘fuck off.’ Wasn’t it obvious that the battery was being, well, _used?_ Every time he went to this damn place!

It was while he was heading to the scrappers in the back of the market that he heard something that made him stop short.

“At least she’s getting better. Started getting worried she wouldn’t make it. Would be shitty to lose a doc like her.”

A doctor.

Tony’s head spun around like an owl’s, and he found himself staring at one of the herbalists. She was talking to the booth right next to her, perfectly content in gossiping away the day. The other man nodded. “She’ll outlive us all, I’m damn sure of that.”

“Who are you talking about?” Tony broke in, weaving through the random patrons to stand in front of the herbalist. She immediately scowled up at him. How the hell did these people get any business if they scowled at anyone that even looked their way?

“That’d be none of your damn business,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and leaned into her creaking chair that seemed to be more tape than wood.

Of course everyone had to be difficult. Rolling his eyes, Tony curled his arms around the battery and leaned against the table. “I know the doctors, don’t be a dick. You’re talking about Tao? The lady in the yellow coat?”

For a split second, surprise crossed the woman’s face, but it smoothed back out into the glare. “Because of that mouth a’yers, my info’s got a price.”

God, this entire marketplace was shrewd! Tony scowled and glanced across the table and into the back of the booth. All medicines he didn’t know heads or tails of. Probably combinations of stuff that would make him drop dead. Reaching into one of his bags, Tony tore off three green cards from the book and dropped them onto the table. “Fine, give me some of your tea bags, and spill the damn tea.”

That managed to make the woman smirk, a glint flashing in her eyes. She reached back and grabbed a tin filled with little teabags. Tony didn’t even know what kind of tea it was, he didn’t drink it, but it was all he could think to say. “At least your mouth’s got a good sense of humor,” she quipped as she exchanged cards for a handful of the teabags. Tony tried his best not to roll his eyes as he dropped the teabags into his bag.

“I have regulars that work at the hospital. They-”

“Let me guess, one’s got a burnt up arm and the other’s Tao.”

“Hush, I’m telling the story, not you.” She gave Tony a soft glare before continuing. “Yes, they come for medications all the time, but instead I had an Asian and a blonde come through. They said that Tao had been stabbed and it wasn’t looking good. Well, Tao’s helped me in the past so I gave them some painkillers to help. They were just by a couple hours ago-”

“But not with the burned arm guy,” Tony cut through.

“If you already know the story, then why did you even ask?” she snapped, her glare returning. “No, he wasn’t here. I asked about him and they wouldn’t tell me anything. Haven’t seen him since Tao got hurt.” She leaned back further into her chair and a soft frown pulled at her lips. “The poor dear probably got hurt, too. A shame, he only just started coming back, too. When they came back from the warzone, wherever they were stationed at, it took weeks before he came back and had his arm all wrapped up. Then before that there was the-.”

“Wait, hold on, back up a bit. What do you mean they were in a _warzone?_ They leave the hospital?” Tony’s jaw dropped at the very idea of those doctors being outside the hospital. But now that he thought about it, at the very first meeting, Stephen had mentioned he was one of the ‘doctors without borders.’ Did that mean he was a combat medic? Had Stephen actually been out to a battlefield?

“From what I’ve heard, the hospital is a homebase. They’ll be shipped out to whoever needs help and camp there. All I know was that the last time they were shipped out, _someone_ attacked the whole safezone.” Her jaw tensed and her eyes darted away to stare at a random spot on her table. “Of course we don’t know who. It had been a shitshow for months, attacks coming from everywhere on everyone. If I ever find who those bastards were-”

“Go back to the safezone,” Tony breathed, his heart starting to pound in his chest. Stephen’s episode was starting to play through his head again. Planes, civilians, casualties… “What _happened?”_

“I heard it started raining _fire.”_

And now he was lost. He tilted his head to the side, trying to connect her words in any way other than it literally raining fire. That doesn’t happen. That _shouldn’t_ happen.

“Like someone dropped a firebomb on the whole safezone. Anyone in the open melted alive. I saw his arm, too, his bandages were coming loose. Just _melting.”_

“Like… Like an atomic bomb? Chernobyl?” Tony choked.

“This wasn’t radiation,” she corrected, shaking her head. “Whatever it was, someone dumped it on not only a safezone, but on _doctors_ and _civilians._ Not soldiers.”

Tony’s mouth fell open, but whatever he was going to say wouldn’t come out. Maybe he wanted to deny that people would be that horrid, that people would make a weapon that they used on civilians. But then again, Tony knew more than anyone else that a powerful weapon would be used anywhere and everywhere. Weapons were made to scare just as much as they were made to kill. It wasn’t just about the body count.

It was sending a message.

His mind was already flickering through Stephen’s breakdowns, stringing together his broken words and his sudden outburst in the lobby. How he was clutching at his arm, how he avoided touch, and how relieved he was that Tony was there to ‘help.’ He thought Tony would save the wounded. The dying.

“Oh my God, he kept talking about burning, and when he broke down, he-”

“What breakdown?”

That’s when the words started spilling out like a floodgate. Everything was connecting now. “After Tao got stabbed, Stephen had a _massive_ breakdown. He shut down completely. He kept rambling on and on about people burning and people getting hurt and dying, and then when he came back a little, he wasn’t _there._ Like, he wasn’t in the hospital. His brain was somewhere else. Wherever it happened, that’s where he was. And he was seeing all this awful shit…”

The image of Stephen kneeling on the ground, clutching the crying child, anchored itself into his mind. “He kept saying that everyone was dead. Like he couldn’t stop seeing it. I-I guess he saw everyone asleep and it looked like everyone was dead, and he was talking about planes, smoke, all this fucked up shit, that he was dying-”

“That’s what he was seeing,” the woman finished, her eyes wide. “He was right in the middle of it! He saw the whole thing! Everyone was saying that there had to be almost a hundred people who died!”

“When were they here?” Tony asked, jerking his head around as if the two would be right behind him. Stephen hadn’t been here in the market, meaning he was still at the hospital, meaning he still wasn’t well enough to leave… But now he knew what was happening. Now he could help. Right? This was why Stephen wouldn’t let people touch him. Whatever had happened that day had changed him. Scarred him physically and emotionally.

“I think they left an hour ago. Said they wanted to get home since Tao was resting when they left.” The woman then slid the green cards on the table back in front of Tony. “Keep the cards, that was more than enough to pay for a bit of tea spilling.”

“Keep it, tea’s in my bag, no take-backs,” Tony grunted, and without pausing for another second, Tony rushed back into the crowd. Fuck going back home. Fuck getting things ready for Stephen.

He needed answers and there was only one place he was getting them from.


	17. All is Fair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An answer, an answer, Tony's kingdom for an answer. An answer that Tony will receive.
> 
> At a price.

Wool was never a fabric Stephen cared for. It always felt itchy and much too thick, getting caught on anything and everything. Sure, it was warm, but it always felt like a rash was left in place of wherever he wore it.

Right now, though, he couldn’t bear to part with the woolen strip between his hands.

The bright red of Tao’s scarf hid any blood that may have soaked into it, though he could feel the dried blood crusted onto a few spots. There were gold designs sewn into the fabric, and it was through them that Stephen could see the blood. He couldn’t wash it, not when there was the chance he may ruin the precious item.

It was wound around his right hand almost like a glove, his left hand running across the surface in delicate strokes. Stephen knew he had never parted with the item the entire time, breakdown or not. It was his only link to Tao when Wong refused to let him see her.

But that was changing, at least he hoped. Stephen sat outside the hospital room, leaning his back against the wall and idly toyed with the scarf. He unwound it and wound it again, admiring each and every piece. It was quiet, maybe even peaceful. At least, that was how it looked from the outside.

On the inside, Stephen’s mind was still thrown into turmoil.

Four days. He lost four days like they were nothing. With his eidetic memory far surpassing most others, there was barely a moment that slipped his mind. It was a burden as much as it was a blessing, even more so given the past few years. Yet with his genius-level memory and focus, he still lost four entire days. It was far beyond his own thoughts to how that could have happened. It truly was a mental breakdown in every sense of the word.

And now they feared he would fall victim to it again.

Stephen didn’t need people to tell him about how he acted in those lost days. He saw it in the way no one could look him in the eye. People would stand up and be prepared to move as he walked by, and there always seemed to be a doctor around every corner to watch out for him. While the specifics would be a mystery, hopefully forever, there were things Stephen could pinpoint.

Somehow, he didn’t know how, he went to the meeting. That was the only way Tony could follow him back home. That meant he had made a fool of himself in front of the other group members. His fingers tightened on the scarf at the thought, until he forced them to loosen again. Don’t harm the scarf. It was his only link. Past the meeting, he wasn’t sure. Surely no one would let him wander off the hospital grounds again, which must be why Tony stayed.

That was the part he didn’t understand. Why Tony? All Stephen ever did was give him some coffee, growl and complain and threaten that he would never come back to the group, and was not much more than a burr in his side. Tony had no reason to care enough to stay in a hospital with a stranger, surrounded by other strangers. 

Tony also had no reason to be taking him in. It could be that he was still that charity case after all this time, and Tony really did take pity on the worthless doctor. This entire event only proved that Stephen couldn’t take care of himself. Not without breaking. Was he still broken? Was he even fixable?

No, he wasn’t. Stephen knew that. Bones could knit together, skin scabbing over and replacing a wound with rough scars, even nerves could sometimes reattach. But this… This couldn’t be fixed. His entire career as a neurosurgeon, and Stephen had finally found the one brain he couldn’t fix. His own.

A long sigh slipped out without his permission, and he felt his body deflate. Stephen didn’t sleep last night. Not real sleep. His thoughts were far too rampant, worries and concerns arguing back and forth, and he had been desperately trying to scrape up some memory of the last few days. When none of those worked out, Stephen found himself just staring at the ceiling and watching the shadows move with the light from the moon, and then the sun. He may have continued doing nothing even now had it not been for Wong promising to see if Tao could handle his visit.

A shudder worked through his body. One of the very few things he remembered was the surgery. Bits and pieces stuck out. The desperation of trying to find someone with the same blood type, the rushed surgery as they tried to stitch together the gushing wounds, her body trying its hardest to fail on them, Stephen having to manually help her breathe with the pump…

Pump, one, two, three, pump, one, two, three, pump, one, two-

“Doc! There you are!”

Stephen almost yelped, his left hand clutching at his chest as he scrambled up to his feet. What happened? What was wrong? Who was hurt? Who was dying? Who-

Oh. It was only Tony.

Tony’s face was flushed from probably running up the stairs, or even to the hospital in the first place, and his battery was hung in a cloth bag at his side. He stumbled to a stop just a few feet away, then almost immediately doubled over in gasping breaths.

“Fuck, shouldn’t have ran,” Tony coughed, his free hand clutching at his chest. “Not good for the heart.”

Stephen’s back was still pressed to the wall, all nerves tense and ready to attack or flee at a moment’s notice. His own hand finally dropped from his chest once he realized Tony was not here as an enemy. That didn’t mean Stephen knew exactly  _ why _ he was here.

“It’s not Thursday,” Stephen cleared his throat in any attempt to cover up his momentary loss of composure. At least, it better not be Thursday. If he had somehow lost time again that badly, then maybe Stephen would be better off sealed into a hospital room for the rest of his pathetic life.

“N-no, but I gotta- I gotta talk to you about something,” Tony wheezed, his hands on his knees as he tried his best not to suddenly go into cardiac arrest. “Like, important stuff.”

Stephen’s jaw tightened and he glanced back to the door to Tao’s room. There wasn’t time to waste on idle chitchat, especially with Tony. Wong had said he would have an answer for Stephen within ten minutes. From the last time he looked at his watch, it was nearing that time. He would not let Wong find another excuse.

“I have important matters to attend to, as well,” Stephen grunted, looking back to Tony. He was back to standing, though was still panting hard. Did he really run that far of a distance? Or was Tony just that out of shape? Maybe both, maybe neither. It didn’t matter. “Unless this is life or death, I-”

“What happened to your arm?”

Every muscle locked into place, as if becoming a wall to barricade the truth. Even the mention of it, and how Tony was staring  _ directly _ at his uncovered arm, save for the scarf, almost had Stephen shut down. Because like a tidal wave, it all crashed back over him.

The screams. The smells. The bodies. The-

“Hey! Don’t zone out on me!” Tony said, reaching out and snapping his fingers twice in front of Stephen’s face. Had this been any other time, Stephen would have been more than pissed at the insult to his own intelligence, but the screams were still echoing in his head, almost muffling out Tony’s words. But he didn’t completely slip away. Not yet. He was still here.

“Why?” was all Stephen choked out, pulling his right arm behind his back. Don’t look at it, he thought. Don’t look at the scars. At his failure.

“Tea lady at the market told me about the attack. That you were at a camp and that someone attacked and there was raining fire or some shit like that. You haven’t told  _ us _ what happened. Don’t you think that’s a  _ little _ important if you want to get help?”

Like a switch was flipped, Stephen gritted his teeth together. The screams were silenced, leaving him only with Tony’s words and his thoughts, none of which were pleasant. “I never recall  _ ever _ asking, or even  _ wanting _ your help.” His right hand curled tighter around the scarf, if just a reminder that he wasn’t alone. The important people knew, the ones who lived through it with him. They knew exactly what happened and the horrors they all saw. There was nothing Tony could do that the others couldn’t.

He’d never understand.

“You just lost, like, four days because your head fucked up, I’m trying-”

Thankfully for Tony’s sake, his words were cut off by the door opening behind him. Stephen spun around, tucking his right arm to his chest as he did so.

Wong was staring at the two of them with wide, blinking eyes, obviously taken aback. “I’d… appreciate if you would keep your voices down,” he muttered, looking between Stephen and Tony. His brow furrowed in confusion. “Why are you here so early? And why must you both be so disruptive? You especially, Strange.”

Any retort was forgotten as Stephen focused entirely on Wong. This argument could wait. The  _ insults _ to his psyche could all wait. This was more important. Wong was still standing in the doorway, no doubt being an obstacle Stephen must first cross. “I must see her,” he grunted, and judging by the way Wong was still blinking, the other man had not expected such an abrasive demand. Stephen didn’t care, though.

He wasn’t going to stand out in this hall and be a target. He was only here to see Tao. That was it. That was all he wanted.

“Tao? How’s she doing? I’ll come with, I-”

“You will do nothing of the sort!” Stephen snapped back, his pale blue eyes burning into Tony’s. His voice was still echoing in the hospital halls, but all he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears. Everything was boiling over. But this time, he would not shut down.

Tony’s eyes widened, his mouth dropped open, and he took a step back. His words fumbled over each other, but Stephen wasn’t going to entertain an excuse.

“Stephen, what-”

“Let me see her.” It was all Stephen said as he turned back to face Wong, and he watched the emotions flash over the other man’s face. Confusion, irritation, maybe even some worry, but they melted back into the calm facade. He nodded, as if Stephen would listen to whatever answer Wong gave, then finally stepped back.

Stephen grabbed the door and stepped inside with no hesitation, then pulled it shut behind him. He would not be disturbed. He would not be attacked. He would not be questioned. All he wanted was Tao.

But as soon as he turned around and faced into the room, all that anger and fury, the heat that had rushed through his veins, drained out of him like blood.

One bed stood alone in the room, with machines still surrounding it. Most of the machines were ones he recognized coming out of the room further down the hall, ones that were deemed defective and unusable. Why they were here was far beyond his current comprehension or even care. Most were turned off, but the heart monitor was still plugged in and the long cords attached to the shape under the blankets. An IV rack stood vigil beside the bed as well, with one clear bag half empty. No blood. They ran out of their immediate stock of blood not long after the second surgery. The rest of the room was vacant. Empty. Hollow. The form on the bed did not move. Stephen didn’t know if she heard the argument outside. If she was even awake.

Stephen’s body suddenly felt cold, and every step he took to the bed was heavier than the last. He swallowed, then his breath caught in his throat.

Tao was laid out on the bed, and for just a moment, she appeared dead. Her eyes were closed, her skin dangerously pale, the life sucked away. But in the empty room, Stephen could hear her soft breath. Alive. And as he stumbled into the chair set up to her right, her eyes fluttered open.

What should have been a sight that filled him with relief and happiness instead just left him that much colder. They were blank. Even as they finally focused on Stephen, he could see nothing. There wasn’t even a smile. She just… laid there.

“You must still be tired,” Stephen said, the words empty on his tongue. That had to be it. She was tired. And she must still be in pain. There was only so much they could do for the pain in their position. When he couldn’t bear looking into her blank eyes any longer, he gazed across her body. She was wearing one of their own scrubs, as actual hospital gowns had been repurposed a long time ago. The deep turquoise only made her pale skin that much more obvious. The scrubs also lacked sleeves.

Which is why his eyes automatically trailed down to her right arm. Another swallow, and this time, he could feel the tears start to come. She would hide it away so well because she knew what it did to him. But he couldn’t stop as he unwound the scarf from his right hand and settled it onto his lap, then reached out.

His fingers found the raised lines and settled on top without difficulty, and his palm covered the rest of the area. The skin felt heated, radiating against his hand that could barely feel anything at all but his own pain. His eyes tracked to the twin lines that stretched out from where his ring finger and pinky would be resting.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, swallowing back a sob that tried to burst out of him.

Silence answered him. Stephen couldn’t force himself to look into Tao’s eyes again. Something inside him told him that he would not like what he saw.

* * *

When Stephen discovered that Tony was not waiting in the hall like he had assumed, his heart sank. Their ‘conversation’ had been playing over and over in his head while he sat with Tao, the silence in the room only letting the words sink deeper. There were many different ways Stephen should have responded, many  _ worse _ ways to respond, but he could have also responded better. Perhaps if his mind was not so muddled at the moment, they could have had a proper conversation.

Which was what he decided he was going to do now.

Wong at first just pointed down the hall, assuming Stephen would know where he was at. Stephen blamed the gap in his memories, but he would not say that aloud. Eventually, Wong said that Tony was working on the machines.

Ah, so that’s why those machines were back in service. The idea of thanking Tony crossed his mind, but that may have to wait until whatever conversation took place. Stephen walked through the hall, glancing into open doorways as he went. There weren’t many patients right now that had to be watched over; a boy with a broken leg from falling off some rubble, a gunshot wound victim that came from outside the sector walls, and a former soldier who finally had a bullet removed from his leg. It was quiet, blissfully quiet. Stephen prayed it would remain that way.

But prayers were never answered, not anymore.

Stephen stopped outside the door and paused. He could hear sounds on the other side, metal and pieces being dropped onto the ground, an occasional curse, normal working sounds. Tony must be alone. He reached out with his left hand and opened the door.

“I think I found what’s fried up the-” Tony began as soon as the door opened, only to cut off. Stephen blinked.

Tony was sitting on the floor, tools spread out all around him along with shreds of wire, cable, nuts, bolts, screws, just about anything needed for tinkering with machines. He had an EKG unit practically eviscerated in front of him, the wires spread out over the sides and pieces taken out. His hands were holding tools as he fiddled inside the machine, poking and prodding. It reminded Stephen of his own surgeries inside the brain, carefully shifting through blood vessels and muscles to find the problem beneath the surface.

His eyes met Tony’s just as his words trailed off. The other man’s mouth dropped open and his face paled.

“Shit, I, uh, Wong said I could mess with this shit, I-” he rambled, reaching out and gathering up the mess into uneven piles. “You were probably out of it before, but I was a mechanic before the war and all that, kinda an inventor, so this is what I did, and I’m doing it now, I’m not just fucking around and breaking your shit-”

“I’m not here about that,” Stephen cut through, an eyebrow raised. Seeing Tony so anxious and jumpy was far from what he was used to. He always seemed to be a man within his element at all times, claiming control even if it was only the illusion of it. Perhaps their ‘conversation’ had shaken him up more than Stephen realized.

Tony’s hands fidgeted with the tools still grasped within them, tapping a screwdriver against his thigh. He looked away, staring at the wall, avoiding his gaze. Tony cleared his throat, but nothing came out.

Stephen sighed long and slow. “I just came to say that, while I do not apologize for what I said, raising my voice had not been necessary. As you probably already know, things have been… strained.” Understatement of the century.

Tony’s breath left him in a sudden gust, as if he had been holding it the entire time Stephen had been with Tao. He nodded, though his gaze was still fixed on the wall. “I do apologize for what I said,” he started, then paused. Clearly he was thinking about what he was going to say before he said it. At least it was a start. “Definitely could have said it differently and not come off like… that.”

“Tell me why you want to know, then.”

There was silence for a couple seconds and Tony’s eyes flicked back to Stephen’s, then back to the wall. “I want to help you, and if I know what happened-”

“No,” Stephen interrupted, shaking his head. “Tell me the  _ real _ reason why you want to know.”

That had Tony looking back with narrowed eyes. His frame had a hint of rigidity. “What are you, an interrogator?” he grunted, dropping his screwdriver and throwing out a hand. “You can’t believe that I just want to help? I can do things and not get anything in return!”

“People who do things without expecting ‘anything in return’ are those who are trying to be forgiven a debt they cannot pay,” Stephen quietly said, eyes focused and trained on Tony’s reactions. His hand twitched on the plier in his other hand, and his knuckles paled as they clenched.

“I didn’t come here to be psychoanalyzed,” Tony said, an edge to his words. Trying to cover up the lack of an answer. Textbook.

It had been so long since Stephen had a moment with a clear mind. Perhaps he shouldn’t be using it all on Tony. Then again, he was in need of answers one way or another. All he hoped was that Tony would verbally tell him rather than Stephen having to dig through physical cues.

“Can we just talk without you getting your doctor head up your ass? I would have looked for my own therapist if I wanted one, thank you very much.”

Well, that was practically unfair with how easy Tony was making this for him.

“If you truly wanted to help me, you wouldn’t risk  _ damaging _ me by asking what you must know is a very dangerous question.” Stephen felt his right hand twitch and involuntarily tucked it behind his back. Tony’s eyes followed the movement, but he didn’t care.

“Maybe I’m an idiot with good intentions,” Tony declared, crossing his arms over his chest and meeting Stephen’s eyes again, with what Stephen could only compare to an air of defiance in his gaze. “Maybe I want to skip all the poking and prodding for details and get everything out in the open. Rip the bandage off and start healing.”

Stephen couldn’t stop the sharp laugh if he tried. “You’re not that innocent,” he scoffed, and as Tony opened his mouth to retort back, Stephen raised his left hand to silence him. “Let’s make a deal if you want to  _ help _ so bad. I will tell you about my injury, only if you tell me about your own.” As if he needed clarification, Stephen pointed down to the battery that sat right beside Tony.

Out of his own instinct, Tony dropped a hand onto it and pressed it closer to himself. There was a flash of something through his gaze, something deep that Stephen couldn’t quite unravel yet. “That’s easy,” Tony finally smirked, then tapped at his chest. “I was kidnapped. Your turn.”

“Terrorism.”

Stephen’s lips twitched into a smirk as Tony lost his own. He blinked and furrowed his brow. “I already knew that part,” he grumbled, narrowing his eyes once more. “I want to know about the ‘raining fire’ that the tea lady was talking about, and-”

“If you wanted details,” Stephen interrupted one more time, if only to stop Tony from continuing. The less he knew about how much Tony knew, the better. It was obvious that he didn’t know the whole story, but ‘raining fire’ was already much more than Stephen was comfortable with. “Then I expect details in return.”

Tony only furrowed his brow that much more, and judging by how he refused to open his mouth, he would not be giving up the details freely. Neither would Stephen.

“After all, perhaps  _ I _ want to  _ help _ as well?”

Tony’s jaw tightened and there was that dark flash again. “That’s rude,” he muttered, breaking eye contact just as defeat started creeping its way in.

“No, that’s fair. An eye for an eye, a detail for a detail.”

“All is fair in love and post-war?”

A smile spread across Stephen’s face. “Precisely.”


	18. Inside the Walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is one District that Stephen refuses to step foot in. Not the West District, not even the South District where gangs and crime ran rampant. No. The North District. But that's exactly where Tony is taking him.

If there was a lesson the war had taught Stephen, other than don’t believe in miracles and don’t trust anyone that isn’t yourself, it was to travel light. Almost all of Stephen’s worldly possessions fit inside the worn backpack he had flung over his left shoulder, in just a few changes of clothes, a book, his broken watch, wraps for his hand and arm, and at one point, Tao’s scarf.

That now resided wrapped around Stephen’s right hand, and even as his arm was covered with the white bandages once more, he still couldn’t help but wrap the scarf just as tight.

His thumb stroked across the thick fabric as they walked, and even when he could only feel pinpricks of pain of permanently damaged nerves, he liked to think that it felt good. Grounding him. There was a comfort he couldn’t begin to explain. Perhaps it was carrying a piece of Tao with him when they were apart? Foolish, he knew, as there was no  _ real _ connection, but… Stephen would allow his brain to be fooled otherwise.

Comfort was something so foreign to him that he would take whatever was at his grasp.

Stephen stared up into the sky, to the clouds just starting to darken with rain. There would be an influx of visitors to the hospital by random passersby fleeing from the storm. With such little space as it was, the hospital would not be able to take in many people before having to shut their doors again. 

He shook himself. Stop thinking. That was the entire point of this… whatever it was. Vacation? A break? A prison sentence? Was Tony his captor? Staring at the man barely a few steps ahead of him, Stephen huffed. Some captor. May as well entertain this charade until he could return to the hospital. After all, he wasn’t given a choice. Make the best of the circumstances you’re in.

“We’ll be crossing into No Man’s Land if we keep walking like this.  _ Please _ tell me you aren’t  outside the Sector.”

“Calm down, Doc, we’re getting there,” Tony called back, looking over his shoulder. He was holding his battery in the thick canvas bags he for some reason brought to the hospital, having ran straight from the marketplace to confront him about his arm. Tony had to stay the night as by the time their conversation was worked out, it was much too late. That involved another awkward night of sharing a bed, passing sarcastic remarks back and forth, being yelled at by Wong, and then sleeping.

Tony was very adamant about leaving before noon. It wasn’t until after they left that Stephen realized it was because very few people were around in the lobby, most going to eat. They were practically smuggling Stephen out, or perhaps during his breakdown, he had done something so horrendous that they wanted to save him the ridicule.

Very little was coming back to Stephen, and what there was held almost no answers. There were flashes of people, of Tony, Tao, Wong and Christine, but then there was the burning. Flickers of the past rushing back like new memories. Bodies, blood, fire...

Stephen took a moment to shake himself out of the memories. No, he wasn’t going to think about it. He needed to focus on clearing his head, not dwelling on the past. Easier said than done, he knew, but if he could just… have a couple days away. Just a couple. That’s all he needed.

Glancing around them, Stephen tried to get his bearings. They had crossed into the Central District fifteen minutes ago, but further north than the meeting place. Instead, they continued to walk north. And kept walking. Then it was when Tony took a particular turn that Stephen stopped short.

All across the Districts, there were handmade signs created by the military or helpful civilians to direct people to the key areas. One such sign was a wooden plank leaned against a destroyed car with black paint scrawled across it. On it was just a couple locations.

Marketplace would have been left, going straight south. Written beneath that was the word ‘Orphanage.’ The fact that such a place had to be directed towards was one that left his heart sagging in his chest. So many children losing their parents, all searching for that one place to have a roof over their head. 

The West District had an awkward arrow slanting up and to the left. But that wasn’t where Tony had turned. He had turned right.

Following the arrow with the label ‘North District.’

“I cannot believe that you live in the North District,” Stephen stated, rooting himself where he stood. This was a trap, it had to be.  _ Had _ to be. “I’d sooner believe you were taking me to No Man’s Land to pawn me off to the merchants.”

Tony turned back to stare at Stephen, blinking with such innocence that it made Stephen feel sick to his stomach. “Take it easy, Doc,” he chuckled weakly, pointing over his shoulder to the road leading up to the district. “I just live right inside The Wall. It’s not a bad place.”

“That’s  _ exactly _ the point!” Stephen said, narrowing his eyes. This wasn’t right. Wasn’t normal. Because normal people don’t suddenly get to live in the North District.

His hand tightened around the scarf, and no amount of feeling the thick wool fabric could bring him back down from the frenzy in his head. This was a mistake, he was going to be led to the North District only to be taken to the West, then further, deeper into No Man’s Land, where he will never find his way home again. Tony opened his mouth, probably to give him a lie, but Stephen swiftly cut through.

“There’s no way that you could have earned a spot into the North District. Are you taking me there to be sent to the military as a medic? As a  _ soldier? _ Is that how you’re earning your spot? Finding recruits?” His mind spun around the possibilities. No one lived in the North District unless you were three things; connected to the government, connected to the military, or placed specifically there by the government.

There was only one possible explanation.

“That’s how you have all those ration cards. They pay you to bring people. That’s why you hunt the meetings, find someone that no one will miss! Someone too broken to fight back!” Spinning and spinning out of control, the horror pushed through his body like a drug. This was it. This was the moment Tony had been waiting for.

Stephen was alone, he was wounded, he was too weak to fight, no one would come looking for him, no one would know  _ where _ to look for him. The worst part, Stephen would wish to be taken by No Man’s Land instead than the government. The  _ merchants. _

Take him to create weapons, to experiment, use his tools as a doctor against innocents just like the terrorists did to their camp, killing all those people, he wasn’t going to be a part of that, he’d rather die, he’d-

“Jesus fuck, Steph, stop!”

Everything was tight, everything was suffocating, everything was closing in, he’d rather die, he’d rather die, he’d-

“Where are you?”

...Where was he?

Air filled his lungs and a rush ran through his brain at the sudden flow of oxygen. Where was he. Where was he. He was…

He was…

“C-Central District,” Stephen croaked between coughs and gasps for air. Get a hold of yourself. You’re weak. You’re  _ weak. _ You shouldn’t be losing it over a  _ place. _ You shouldn’t be  _ losing it! _

“Yeah, Central District. You’re standing in Central District. Uh. Maybe you should be sitting in Central District. Um. Can I help you sit? Can I touch you-”

“No!” Don’t touch. Don’t touch. It burns. Everyone burns. Burning, lungs burning, arm burning, hand burning, burning, everything’s burning!

“You’re in Central District. You’re standing right here with me. Okay? With Tony Stark. You’re in the Central District with Tony Stark and everything is fine.”

He was in the Central District, he was standing next to Tony Stark, and everything was fine.

Central District, Tony Stark, fine.

Everything was fine.

The breaths got easier with time, but by the time Stephen’s vision cleared, he was certain that far too much time had passed compared to what he had felt. He had slipped again.

But he came back this time. That had to mean something. Right?

He coughed again, and this time he felt the rasp in his throat with every breath. He counted them. His vision focused. Tony Stark was standing right beside him, just like he said. In the Central District. Just like he said. And everything was fine.

Just like he said.

Tony had his arms held out, hands lingering a few inches away as if he expected Stephen to collapse at any moment. But he refused to. Stephen was already weak, he couldn’t fall even lower.

“You’re back, Doc.”

Good. He was back.

Tony let out a breath that he must have been holding in a sudden gust, finally relaxing from his tense position. “Thank fuck, I was gonna have a heart attack just standing here watching you lose it again, and I’d have to go get Cliff and Sam but then I wouldn’t be able to leave you alone-”

“W-what you did.” Stephen swallowed and collected his words. “Worked. That… worked. Better.”

Tony blinked, then broke out into a grin. “I was just making shit up as I went, you know, grounding you and all that. Couldn’t touch you, so next best thing?” He laughed, forced by what Stephen could hear. By all appearances to the untrained eye, Tony was back to normal. As if what had just happened hadn’t happened at all. Probably for the best. There were things Stephen had said that might be hard to take back if Tony took them seriously, from a sane person’s lips.

Stephen might not be that anymore.

It left an ache in his stomach, a sucking wound. But he wouldn’t be able to stitch it shut, not now. He didn’t have the proper tools.

He swallowed one more time and looked down at his hands. His left was clutching onto his right arm, the same as always. It took precious seconds to pry away his own grip, leaving a throbbing pain behind. He could at least feel the pain. That was good. Maybe. He wasn’t so sure anymore.

“We can still make it in good time and get dinner,” Tony called, and Stephen looked up to see that he had already taken several paces away. He had the bag with his battery slung over his shoulder while his hands were pushed into his pockets. “I guess I kinda forgot to stock the food since that was what I was gonna do before I got… distracted.”

Had Stephen been in almost any other mental capacity, perhaps he would not have followed so easily. But he did, because there was no where else to go. He was with Tony Stark in the Central District. That’s all that he knew and all that mattered.

The rest of the world pieced back together as they walked. He vaguely recognized this area. It was rare, but sometimes doctors were called outside the hospital to treat victims in other districts when they could not be brought to them. There had been a particular incident two years ago when a riot broke out against the North District walls, of civilians trying to force their way into what seemed like a paradise.

The guards opened fire.

Very rarely did anyone attempt access through The Wall after that, as it took near months for the blood to be washed away. It still stained his memory, and his hands felt wet with cooling blood.

No, he was in the Central District and he was with Tony Stark, and everything was fine. Everything was  _ fine. _ Even if it wasn’t before.

The Wall itself was solid stone, with what was supposed to appear like decorative stakes lining the top. It only masked the fact that the stakes were to prevent anyone from scaling the wall. Barbed wire had just been too threatening, while also doing little to deter those who came prepared. Barbed wire could be cut easier than stakes, and with the arrow-like formation, once you were impaled deep enough, you were trapped.

His eyes traveled along the top of the wall, then he finally saw the door. It was chainlink but seemed to be a few layers thick to prevent against just cutting through. Perhaps it was even electric. There was a panel bolted into the stone with a small button and a speaker, and there was even a small camera just a few inches above the panel. All of it was security he hadn’t seen in  _ years. _ All the rest of the world had to run off of padlocks and deadbolts.

Tony walked up to the gate without breaking stride, calling out for someone. In a matter of moments, someone came into view on the other side of the fence. The man was dressed in soldier camo, immediately making Stephen’s heart surge into his throat. Whenever Stephen saw soldiers, it always seemed that trouble would follow. Not to mention that the closer he got, the more Stephen felt on edge.

The soldier had his sleeves rolled up, exposing tanned forearms and leading to muscular biceps. His shoulders were wide, brimming with power, not to mention the obvious assault rifle that was strapped to his back. As the soldier peered through the fence, his eyes were narrowed into slits where Stephen could barely make out the piercing blue eyes that glared back.

But as soon as the soldier spotted Tony, his entire demeanor changed, smiling and waving back. “We missed you last night,” the soldier called, already reaching to his belt for some card that must unlock the door. “Cliff was gonna start making calls if you didn’t make it back by five.”

“Aw, I didn’t know he cared so much,” Tony laughed. Stephen still maintained a distance behind Tony, eyes flicking warily between the soldier and Tony.

This wasn’t what he had expected. A single soldier? No, there had to be more behind the wall. Waiting. All lined up and ready to be sent out at any given time.

There was a mechanical beep, then the fence was slowly drawn open. Tony had already walked inside and pulled out something from his pocket, some sort of card. The soldier in response took out a scanner from his side and scanned  _ something. _ It was all security that Stephen hadn’t seen in years. Not even the marketplace had anything like this. It was enough to make him pause just outside the gate, his left hand latching onto his right arm once more.

“Oh, you brought a friend?” the soldier spoke up, meeting Stephen’s eyes. There was no hostility, only curiosity. A lopsided smile was still on his lips. “I didn’t know you even  _ had _ friends!”

Tony scoffed loudly and clapped the soldier onto the shoulder, and Stephen flinched as he saw Tony’s hand just inches away from the gun. “Yeah, he’s staying with me. Why don’t you go fetch Clifford, Lassie? Get the introductions out of the way. He’s gonna be here for a while, better he knows who he can trust to get his ass out of trouble.”

Stephen still lingered outside the wall, taking in more of the soldier. His nametag had the last name ‘Bridges’ stitched on, and his uniform was relatively clean, if not a bit sunbleached. His long dark hair almost obscured his eyes, with some of it lazily pulled back into a ponytail. Their eyes met again and Stephen forced himself not to flinch. Tony trusted the soldier, Bridges, whoever he was. That had to mean something.

“Cliff’s not feeling well today so he’s taking the day off. Practically had to tie him down and lock the door to make him rest. You know how he is.” The soldier flashed one more smile over to Tony before he nodded to Stephen. “You can come in. I gotta get you a visitors badge and all that, lay out the rules, check you over, all the fun shit.”

When Stephen didn’t move, couldn’t move, the smiles slipped away. “Give us a sec, go grab the badge and shit,” Tony murmured to Bridges, who seemed unsure, but nodded and disappeared back behind the wall. Tony stepped through the gateway and stood back in front of Stephen, trying to hold his gaze when all Stephen wanted to do was turn back and run.

“That’s Sam. He’s a friend of mine. He’s a cool guy who just wants to make sure everyone’s following the rules and is safe. Okay? He’s not going to hurt you. I don’t think he even knows how to if he tried.” Tony grinned like it was a joke, but it only made Stephen’s stomach churn up.

That’s when Tony held out one arm, angling it to where Stephen could easily grab his sleeve. “I know you don’t like touching, but you won’t hurt me and I won’t hurt you. I’ll be right here.”

It was foolish and childish, having to be treated this way. Even more so that it worked.

Stephen’s left hand was shaky as he finally reached out, and that little voice in his head begged him not to. Don’t touch. Don’t burn. But he wasn’t touching skin. It couldn’t count if he wasn’t touching skin, right? When his fingertips brushed against the surface of Tony’s jacket sleeve, Stephen was ready for the burns to set in, to watch Tony jerk away and spit out insults and curses, damning him where he stood.

But Tony just stood there with that soft smile, just waiting.

So Stephen smiled back. It was pathetic and weak, but he did. And Tony slowly led him across the threshold, finally stepping into the North District.

A shiver rushed through Stephen’s body as he took the first good look inside. It looked… normal. Like, actually normal. Houses were in good shape, standing tall. There weren’t any demolished vehicles in the middle of roads. No debris. It was  _ clean. _ It was  _ normal. _ His fingers twisted further into Tony’s sleeve.

When did normal become so wrong?

He could feel Tony’s eyes on him at all times, and Stephen wasn’t sure if he should feel comforted or not. He didn’t even know  _ what _ he was feeling at all. They all conflicted together. Never had Stephen thought he would be stepping into the North District for anything but to give medical aid after another bloody battle.

“Alright, I got your badge,” Sam’s voice broke his twisting thoughts and almost made him jump. Turning back, Stephen’s eyes still went automatically to the gun. It wasn’t even in Sam’s hands, yet the presence alone made him feel like he was choking. Sam held out a laminated white badge with a symbol, barcode, and the words ‘Visitor’ printed onto it. “This is your way to get in and out of the District. Me and Cliff scan you in and out. And it tells the others that you’re here with permission and not some spy or enemy.” Sam tried his best to smile, but his eyes were flicking back and forth between Stephen and Tony. His hands fiddled with the tag, the tension making him pause.

“I…” Sam paused again, holding Tony’s gaze. “Regulations say I gotta pat you down. No weapons, stuff like that, for visitors. I gotta do it.”

_ “No.” _ Stephen’s voice was supposed to be strong and authoritative, but all that came out was a croak. Sam flinched. An actual soldier  _ flinched. _ But why? Because he knew what would happen when a civilian disobeyed authority? Was he going to be punished?

“Hold on,” Tony spoke up, his voice firm yet quiet. He kept his arm perfectly still to not jerk Stephen’s grasp, though held his other hand up to Sam. “Can we do something instead of the pat down? Doc’s been through some shit, he doesn’t do well with touching.” When Sam immediately started to shake his head, Tony continued. “Cliff doesn’t have to know. We’re not breaking any rules, just… you know, flexing them. Just check the bag and his jacket, he can turn his pockets inside out, the usual. Just no pat down.”

That made Sam pause, visibly chewing on his bottom lip in thought. His fingers worked around the badge in his hands, constantly playing with it before Sam let out a long sigh. “Okay, I guess I can do that. It’s your first visitor, and you haven’t even gotten a warning on  _ anything, _ so it should be fine. Take off the bag, the jacket, put your pockets inside out, and-” Sam paused, and his eyes were focused onto Stephen’s wounded arm.

“He’s not hiding anything under the bandages, trust me,” Tony assured just as the thought was crossing the soldier’s mind. “He needs the bandages.”

Another pause, followed by another nod. A sharp breath rushed out of Stephen’s lungs and he could have sworn all the strength in his body had left that same moment. He could handle this. Just no… touching. In jerky movements, Stephen slipped the bag off his left shoulder, even as he had to let go of Tony’s sleeve to do so. He set it down onto the pavement, followed by his jacket. Anything to get this done quickly.

Sam maintained his distance, uncertainty still clear in his facial features, but once Tony prodded the bag closer, he seemed to relax as well. “Uh, I’ll give you a run down of the rules,” he said, stepping forward and starting to carefully tug open the backpack zippers. He knelt down beside the backpack and squinted into it, ruffling through the items inside.

“Me and Cliff are the head of security for the front gates and the civilians. If you need any help with anything, we got systems to contact us. Tony can show you those at his apartment. But if you need to come to us, we live in that house.” Sam pointed back over his shoulder, to a building that was flush against the stone wall about a couple hundred feet away from the gate. “Our door’s always unlocked. During the day, we’re watching the gate. At night, if we gotta, we’re patrolling the wall. Any other time, we’re home. Knock first, though.”

Sam pulled out a few pieces of clothing, unfolding them and then trying his hardest to fold them back up correctly. When that failed, he just sheepishly tucked them back into the bag. “Big thing, though. Always have your badge on you when you’re out in the open. It just saves from the confusion and if any other soldiers can’t see it, they might get the wrong idea. Hasn’t happened yet, but just to be safe. And don’t get too close to the fence, either. The other soldiers get...” Sam paused, furrowing his brow as he searched his mind for the correct word or phrase. “I mean, just to be safe.”

“What fence?” Stephen breathed, his heart only just starting to slow down in his chest again.

Once again, Sam reached over and pointed north. “The actual base is deeper inside. As long as you don’t get in their way, though, you should be fine.”

“You won’t even notice them,” Tony added, flashing a smile back to Stephen. “Won’t even know they’re there.”

Doubtful, but Stephen swallowed down his fear. As Sam finished with his bag and moved on to his jacket, Stephen silently turned his pockets inside out. There was only his watch inside, and soon enough, Sam stood back up and held out the badge.

“Everything looks good,” Sam chirped, visibly relieved to be finished with what Stephen assumed to be the worst part. Stephen paused, then carefully reached out and took the badge from Sam’s hand. “Welcome to the North District.”

“Thank you for being accommodating,” Stephen muttered, if just because he couldn’t find any other words to say. This was not the best first impression he could be making, not by a long shot, but it wasn’t… Well, not the  _ absolute _ worst. He was still alive. That had to count for something. Stephen scooped his bag back up and pulled it over his left shoulder and draped the jacket over his right arm.

“Sorry Cliff wasn’t here to meet you, he should be back tomorrow. If I see you around, I’ll introduce you.” Sam dug one hand into his pocket and stepped back to the front gate, then pressed his card against the pad built into the stone. With a groan, the fence slid back shut.

Tony stepped back in front of Stephen and motioned to the right. “I can get you settled in, and if we need to, we can head to the marketplace to pick up anything we need. Shit, I didn’t buy food.” Tony winced to himself. “Well, fuck.”

Stephen just scoffed to himself, if mostly at Tony’s attempt to being humorous and lifting the mood. Did it work? Maybe. That didn’t mean Tony had to know either way. They started walking, with Stephen only momentarily looking back over his shoulder to see Sam leaning against the fence and looking through, almost wistful. It had to be a lonely job to do alone.

“So fucking glad he wasn’t here,” Tony groaned beside him, snapping Stephen’s attention back.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Tony answered quickly, shaking his head. “Let’s just go home.”

Home was a word that Stephen hadn’t found himself using for a very long time. It sounded… comforting. At least someone still had a home in the ruined world they lived. And as they walked along the street, Stephen could almost believe that the war had just not touched within these walls.

It was quiet, but a peaceful quiet. Even when the street was beginning to crack with disrepair, green was starting to flow through the cracks. There were lawns of grass around houses, even trees. Taking in a deep breath, Stephen found the air clearer than he’d ever expected. No gunpowder. No dust. Just… life.

Tony turned to a building and unlocked the front door. Again, everything just appeared normal. The pre-war normal, at least. Clean, carpeted hallway with numbered doors on each side. There even was an open room to the side with mailboxes and a few chairs to lounge in. And… was that a  _ laundry _ room? Stephen’s mouth fell open, but Tony was already walking down the hall.

“This is my place,” Tony announced as he stopped in front of a door with the number five bolted to the wood. “I’ve got a friend who lives a couple doors down, we can meet her later if you’re up to it. Or not. Up to you.” He shrugged. “I got another friend that lives upstairs but he’s not here right now. Off doing… Hell, I don’t even know. He’s not allowed to say. Top secret.” Another shrug. “I don’t even know if anyone else lives in this place. Don’t really see anyone. Well, I mean other people live in this  _ district-” _

Tony paused, only now realizing that he still had the key in the door and hadn’t even unlocked it. “Sorry, I guess I just haven’t had anyone to talk to here for a while,” he muttered, keeping his gaze focused on the door. With a quick movement, he unlocked the door and pushed it open.

The first thing that Stephen thought was that there was an abundance of… stuff. Things just laying around. Following Tony through the door, his eyes lingered on mechanical mishmashes on every flat surface. Some still had tools sticking out of them, signalling an ongoing project, while others were abandoned and pushed to the side. The next thing he noticed was that when Tony closed the door behind them, it became… quiet.

So quiet.

Stephen had become so used to the chaos that surrounded him inside the hospital that even being alone in a room was not as quiet as many would suspect, with people practically bursting at the seams. Here, though, it was just silent. Tony’s breathing, his own breathing, the subtle sound of fabric brushing against fabric, Tony stepping away, they all were magnified if just to take up the empty space.

His hand tightened on the strap of his bag, suddenly unsure. This was someone else’s home, after all. An actual home. This wasn’t a random room to take shelter in during the rainfall. This was a  _ home. _ And now he felt more like an invader than he had expected.

“Uh, just put your stuff down anywhere. Sorry ‘bout the mess, I bounce between projects a lot, so I keep everything in easy grasp,” Tony called from where he walked deeper into the apartment, turning a corner and opening what sounded like cupboards. “Pepper is a fucking  _ goddess, _ she stocked the food while I was away.”

With no open counter space, Stephen slowly slid the bag off of his shoulder and sat it near the door, perhaps if he needed to make a quick escape. He made sure to place the badge on top of the bag, keeping it in clear sight. This was not a day to press his luck. Though just as he looked back up to ask just what the hell he was supposed to do now, he almost jumped when Tony was standing just a foot away and holding out a towel with a few items set on top.

Stephen squinted down at them then felt that familiar twist in his gut. A shampoo bottle, a bar of soap, shaving cream and a shaving blade. Those last two items…

“First thing’s first, go take a damn shower. You look like you’ve been left out in the street during the whole war. Then shave that animal off your face. I get why you don’t really wanna use a scalpel for that, but  _ seriously. _ It’s out of control.”

Any retort died in Stephen’s throat, his head only filling with one particular question. A shower? Tony had a  _ shower. _ Which meant he had running water. Spare running water to use just to clean. Tony placed the towel onto his left arm and grinned. “Just don’t use up all my hot water, got it?”

Hot water. A hot shower.

The thought alone almost broke Stephen where he stood.

How long had it been? Had it been months? Even a year? Time had no meaning to him anymore, all he knew was that it had been much,  _ much _ too long since-

“Hey, it’s not a big deal, don’t go getting lost on me already.”

Damn it, he really needed to stop getting lost in his head. Stephen gave himself a quick shake and nodded. He barely had the mental cognition to recognize Tony pointing to a door on the left before he blindly followed his direction.

Stephen only took a moment to make sure the door was closed behind him before he stared at the shower. His heart thundered in his chest, and for a second, his legs felt weak. The next second was spent frantically pulling at his clothes after dumping the towel and items onto the counter. The only thought he had was  _ shower. Shower. _ He had to get in that shower. He had to wash everything away. Wash it off.

The second water touched his bare skin, he almost crumpled to the tub floor. Water. Shower.  _ Clean. _

The last time he showered, he realized. When he had water dumped over his body. Desperately trying to wash away the burning. How they scrubbed, how the blood flowed down the drain, how his skin peeled away, wash it off. Clean. Rid the burning. Wash it away. The water burned. Skin was bright red. Scrub it away. Down the drain. Water tinting red. Scrub, scrub, scrub it away.

When he opened his eyes again, the water had turned cold. Each drop felt like a needle digging into his skin. His hands were shaking around a rag he didn’t remember grabbing. His skin was throbbing. Bright red.

Stephen dropped the rag and grabbed at the knobs, turning off the water from the full blast it had been on. As the water stopped, his rambling thoughts did too. Just a couple echoed in his mind, now. He was supposed to feel clean. He stared down at his right arm, the white skin turned a blistering red from the hot water and scrubbing, like he could scrub away the damage. He should be clean. He should feel refreshed.

But he didn’t. He just felt exposed.

Stepping out of the tub took more energy than Stephen would admit, wanting nothing more than to just sit in the tub and curl up. His blurry gaze settled on the bathroom floor, where the clothes laid scattered around. The bandages were tossed in a pile on the counter, though he was surprised he even had the consciousness to take them off in the first place. He was just about to grab at his pants before a careful knock came to the door.

“Doc, you left your bag out here. Can I open the door and drop it off? I’ll just open the door a little.”

Stephen grabbed at the towel and shook off the shaving blade and cream into the sink. “A moment,” he rasped, already tucking the towel around his waist. Once it was secured, he finally called to Tony to come in.

As he had promised, the door opened just a crack before his worn bag was set right inside. Tony pushed it out of the way with his hand and quickly shut the door again.

Stephen untucked the towel and began the long process of drying off. Long, because every time he rubbed the fabric against his oversensitive skin, it would leave a sting. He had scrubbed himself much too hard, and as he dried himself, he saw scratches marking the skin here and there. Now he couldn’t even trust himself to take a shower.

With his strength draining by the second, he finally tossed the towel into the sink and pulled a change of clothes out of his bag. Just as he thought, even the presence of clothes made his skin itch and ache. Rebinding his arm was out of the question, too, as the skin was an angry red and throbbing. The idea of having his arm exposed was one he wasn’t fond with, but if it was just him and Tony… Then Tony was going to see it eventually.

But before he could leave the bathroom, something caught his eye. Something his mind had absolutely refused to acknowledge when he first entered. A mirror.

The man looking back at him… made chills run down his spine.

Stephen only looked for a second, but it was enough to burn it into his memory. Red, blotchy skin from the hot water. Hair in tangles. Sunken cheeks and hollow eyes. He looked like a dead man.

He gave only a passing glance at the shaving instruments, and with one look down to his shivering right hand, bypassed them entirely. Not tonight. He was not going to make a fool of himself all in one night. Start with his hideous arm, then he can cut up his face in a pathetic attempt to shave. One disfigurement at a time.

After shoving his old clothes in the bag, Stephen finally nudged open the door and stepped out. The air was cold against his skin, goosebumps running up and only making that ache that much worse. Blearily, he stared across the apartment. Tony was sitting on a couch he only just noticed was there, staring at a blank TV he also just noticed was there, all with the battery still sitting on his lap. The energy to ask those questions wouldn’t come.

“How was the shower?” Tony called, finally looking over the couch and back at Stephen. At the motion, Stephen instinctually tucked his arm behind his back once more. While Tony’s dark eyes flicked down to it for just a moment, it was only that. A moment. Then he looked back to Stephen’s face and frowned.

“Why didn’t you shave?”

Stephen huffed, his shoulders sagging. With no desire to verbally answer, he just held up his right hand, never breaking Tony’s gaze. Maybe he somehow forgot the fact that he had taken in a handicapped doctor?

“Shit,” Tony cursed under his breath before standing up from the couch. “My bad. I’ll help.”

“You’ll  _ help.” _ Stephen deadpanned as he stared at Tony, who didn’t miss a step and walked right past Stephen and into the bathroom.

“Yeah, you’ll feel better after. Trust me.”

Somehow, Stephen wasn’t so sure, but his mouth simply wouldn’t move to give off complaints. It had to barely be past noon and already his mind was turned to mush. It was not a good start to what should be a healing process. Maybe Tony was right and he would feel better, or maybe Tony would just realize how helpless Stephen really was and decided that this was not worth the effort.

With no real way to escape, Stephen just followed Tony back into the bathroom. The other man was already plugging up the sink and running a bit of water into the bowl, all while clearing a spot on the counter. He patted the granite top with one hand once he properly cleared it, meaning dumping everything onto the floor. The battery was set on a towel on the other side, far enough away to not be potentially splashed by the water.

“I highly doubt you can reach if I were to sit on the counter,” Stephen muttered, the corner of his lips twitching in what threatened to be a smile but just didn’t make it.

“Is that a short joke?” Tony didn’t bother to look back, still focusing on his task. “Didn’t want to make you stand for however long this shit will take, but if you insist-”

Without bothering to speak, Stephen stepped past Tony and lowered the lid on the toilet, then sat down. Tony paused in his work, and had this been any other time, Stephen was sure that Tony would have fired back some snark. But perhaps he saw just how tired Stephen was. He felt like he could just drift away, yet again the last thing he wanted to be doing. So Tony just continued preparing.

The razor in Tony’s hand was one of those straight razors that folded like a switchblade. Even looking at the blade made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Tony would be practically holding a knife to his throat and cutting away. If this wasn’t some sick trust exercise in disguise, Stephen wasn’t sure what else it could be.

Tony ran the blade against a towel, making sure it was clean and rinsing it off one more time. “I do this all the time, don’t worry,” Tony grinned, motioning to his own admittedly well-kempt facial hair. “And I look fucking amazing, too. I’m sure I can get you back to halfway decent.”

“How encouraging.”

Tony’s grin somehow widened before he grabbed at the shaving cream. He set the razor down to foam up the cream between his hands, and before Stephen could argue that he was more than capable of doing that himself, Tony had already leaned in and started slapping the cold cream onto his face. He winced and almost drew back, but he had nowhere to go. “Don’t be a baby,” Tony teased, the grin still there, obviously enjoying Stephen’s discomfort.

All Stephen did was mutter a complaint, until his mouth was covered by the foam. Now he was forced into silence, too. He fixed a soft glare in Tony’s direction, up until the moment that Tony washed his hands of the foam and grabbed at the blade.

“Alright, so you’re gonna want to stay still. Last thing I need is to have Wong on my ass because I had to call for advice on how to stitch your face shut.” Stephen narrowed his eyes, but he didn’t say a word. Mostly because Tony already was leaning forward and looking for the best place to begin.

“Tilt your head back, I’ll go neck first.”

How about  _ no? _

But Stephen did it anyway. He closed his eyes and tried to not stiffen up, as that would only make things worse, but when the cold steel finally touched his skin, it took all he had to not pull away. He did flinch, but Tony seemed prepared for that, as he didn’t start shaving until a few seconds later.

The blade traveled so close to the skin, then moved back to wash off the foam into the sink, then came back. It made shivers run up and down his body, down his neck, the back of his head… Every part of him felt like it was becoming unhinged with each pass of the blade. Like a scalpel held to his skin, about to make the first cut. Stephen knew exactly how close Tony’s blade was to slicing into an artery, how much pressure he would have to use, how soon he would bleed out-

“I know I told you not to talk, but I can see your brain’s being an ass again,” Tony suddenly said, pulling the razor away. “How about we do a little game. Well, not a game. I ask questions, you answer yes or no by blinking. I don’t know if people actually do that or not, but doesn’t hurt to try. Keep your mind here.”

Stephen blinked once.

“Is that a yes?”

Blink.

“Cool. One blink for yes, two for no, don’t do anything if you don’t want to answer. Got it?”

Blink.

“Sweet.” The blade pressed to his throat again, and another shiver ran through. “You wanna talk about that little freak out outside the gate?”

Blink, blink.  _ Hell no. _

“Got it.” Two swipes of the blade, and then Tony applied some more foam on his neck. “Can I move your head? Easier than just telling you what to do.”

Blink.  _ If you have to. _

Stephen felt two fingers touch against the column of his throat, and he could feel his own pulse against it. His heartbeat was a little high, his medical brain so helpfully informed him. Probably because he still had a knife to his throat. The blade lifted and Tony turned his head to the side, starting on his jawline.

“You got to see Tao before we left, right? Is she getting better?”

How was he supposed to answer that? Was there even an answer for that? If there was an appropriate answer, Stephen didn’t give it, instead staring up at the ceiling.

When Tony didn’t speak right away, Stephen honestly didn’t know if he was still waiting for an answer. All he knew was that his eyes were starting to dry out and he  _ really _ didn’t want to answer…

“Shit, what can we even talk about…” Tony muttered to himself, and Stephen took that as his cue to being able to blink naturally again. “I, uh, I can tell you about some of my projects?”

Blink.  _ Go for it. _

“Thank God.”

And so that was how Tony filled the silence. He started talking about his plans of trying to fix the reception of his television, to amplify it in any attempt to get more channels or even just news in general. He talked about how he planned on trying to help the hospital more with the broken machines, occasionally asking questions to if a certain machine was more important to fix first than another. All the while, he continued shaving in what turned into a comfortable rhythm of two strokes, washing the blade, two strokes, washing the blade, applying more cream, and repeating.

He could feel the cold air against his exposed skin, something he had not felt in more than two months. Ever since the incident, Stephen had tried twice to shave himself, but each attempt ended in failure. This, though… It felt good. A pathetic word for it, but it was the truth. Stephen ended up closing his eyes as Tony talked, just to lose himself in the sensation. His mind traced the path of the blade, but then he realized something.

Stephen lifted up his left hand, stopping Tony midsentence. “Uh, yes?” he said, pulling the blade away from his cheek.

“You’re not shaving it all,” Stephen finally said. “Why aren’t you shaving it all?”

Tony chuckled. Stephen opened his eyes again and stared back at Tony, then narrowed his eyes at the grin on his face. “Just trust me, Doc.”

“I swear, if you do something ridiculous-”

Tony’s eyes widened, and there was an absurd amount of innocence within his dark whiskey eyes. “No, of course not! I’m not a dick, I wouldn’t take advantage of you like that. You’ll love it, I swear.”

All Stephen did in return was raised an eyebrow, then close his eyes again. The blade returned moments later, but this time only doing small cuts against the hair. Small and careful. Just trimming. Tony continued on with talking about his projects, and Stephen let himself get lost in the voice. How it got higher with excitement, sped up, then calmed back down when he caught himself. Tony was halfway through describing how he was going to try to fix up a few appliances he was given by the scrappers before he suddenly stopped.

“Doc, I found your cheekbones!”

“I wasn’t aware they had left,” Stephen muttered, blinking open his eyes again. Tony had taken a step back and grabbed a towel, then started wiping away at Stephen’s face. Once again, Stephen tried to say that he could do it himself, but Tony was too focused on his work.

“I’ll have to give you some aftershave so your face doesn’t itch like fuck, how long had it been since you had a shave?”

“Too long,” Stephen grunted, finally pushing the towel away from his face. Tony crossed his arms over his chest and nodded to the mirror. May as well see what the damage was… While Stephen hadn’t felt any cuts to his face, he was sure that Tony wouldn’t have been able to cut through everything that easily. Though as he stood up and stepped in front of the mirror…

Wow. Stephen blinked. He reached up carefully, running his fingers along the smooth skin of his cheeks, down to his neck, then finally to the trimmed facial hair. He’d never been a fan of facial hair, as it was sometimes a danger in the operating room if just by germs and bacteria, but this… He could get use to this.

“So…?”

Stephen blinked again, staring at Tony through the mirror. The grin was back on Tony’s face, if not smug, but this time it was deserved. A soft laugh slipped from Stephen’s lips before he could contain it. “Not bad,” he said, looking back at his own reflection. Not bad at all.

“Hey, doc.”

Tony raised up one hand, holding it out to Stephen.

“We are awesome facial hair bros.”

For the longest time, Stephen just stared, just willing for this to all be a nightmare. But Tony just stood there, the smile never fading, his hand shaking in any attempt to edge Stephen on.

Finally, Stephen let out a long sigh and dipped his head. He raised his hand. “I hate you,” he muttered, though as Tony clapped their hands together with a proclamation of victory, Stephen couldn’t fight down the smile.

Facial hair bros, indeed.


	19. Pace Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Normal isn't a word Stephen has associated with. He wasn't normal before the war, and he wasn't after. Faced with normality, though, was a blessing he isn't sure how to accept. It isn't accepted with grace and poise.

Stephen did not miss the burn of aftershave, especially after not experiencing it from what could be years. He almost yelled, only managing to bite down onto his bottom lip to hold it back. At least Tony had left the bathroom to start on dinner, whatever that was going to be. With his face still feeling like it was on fire, Stephen finally stepped out of the bathroom and looked around the room for what felt like the first time.

The apartment had one large room that connected the kitchen, living room, and a little corner off to the side where a table sat. There was another door close to the living room, where he assumed held Tony’s bedroom. Stephen glanced back to the living room and took in the furniture.

For the most part, it was a large, plush couch sitting in the center, with random blankets tossed across it. There was a coffee table right in front, still covered with random machines and papers, and in front of that was a TV. If the world was back before the war, the TV was rather modest, a flat screen sitting on top of a stand. But for the post-war world… Even having a TV was something unheard of.

Televisions had been torn apart early in the war for their parts and pieced out for more important items. They were also stolen and looted very early in the war, back when there was value in those types of items. Now in a world where electricity was scarce and any signal of television even scarcer, it was near useless. But at least it was a reminder of past times, when life was so much easier, and a hope that maybe it will return.

Tony had already whisked himself away to the kitchen, leaving Stephen to… do whatever he wanted as he waited. The first thing his mind focused on was a stack of books haphazardly thrown into a pile beneath some coffee mugs. Some of the spines were too worn to read, while other books were crisp and almost brand new. Well, Tony did say to do whatever he wanted… He couldn’t mind if Stephen flipped through a book as he waited.

It took longer than it should have, carefully picking up each coffee mug and putting them aside with his left hand, then shifting through the books. Engineering, science, fantasy, something that looked suspiciously pornographic… Frowning at his options, Stephen finally nudged out a thick book with yellowing pages. It was some thick manual over different type of car engines and how to repair them.

...Well, it was better than staring at a wall.

With the book in hand, Stephen circled the room and stared down at the couch. It was infested with blankets and pillows, not to mention old papers thrown around. There were even random tools tucked into the blankets, probably lost to Tony after he couldn’t find them. The corner of his mouth twitched, and he made a mental note to  _ try  _ to clean before he had to sleep on the couch. Until then, he made do by clearing out a little nook in the corner and sat down carefully.

The cushions sagged, but already he could feel the relief flooding through his tired limbs. Flat, comfortless hospital beds had been his only place for rest for years, and even sitting on a couch… His eyes fluttered shut and he actually had to bite down on his bottom lip to hold back a groan. Yes, this would do just fine. He curled his legs beneath himself and squirmed into the corner, and just because he felt like pampering himself, pulled a blanket over his lap.

Though not more than two minutes after Stephen opened the book and let himself be sucked into the world of car engines, Tony called from the kitchen.

“Hey, Doc, I forgot to ask what you wanted to eat?”

What he…  _ wanted _ to eat?

The thought made his mind come to a halt. There was a choice? An actual choice in what he wanted to eat? “I…” he started, then his words disappeared before they could make it to his lips.

Tony must have been suspicious to the lack of an answer, as he stepped into the living room with an eyebrow raised. The battery was slung over his shoulder, one arm holding it in place while the cords dangled and tucked under his shirt like always. “Did you hear me?” he asked, though Stephen could see the growing smirk as Tony evaluated Stephen’s current reading position. “Aren’t you all nice and cozy?”

A flush crossed his cheeks and all Stephen could do was level a glare and close the book. “I don’t know what’s in your supplies,” he scoffed in any attempt to cover up, then opened the book again. “I’ve eaten near everything and anything. By this point, I doubt I can taste the difference. Whatever you have will suffice.”

“That’s a little cold, you saying I can’t cook?” Tony whined, still standing right in front of the couch.

“I’m saying I’ll eat anything.” That was a lie, of course. While Stephen would be more than willing to consume anything, his  _ ability _ to do so may falter. Had he lost the use of his left hand rather than the right, there would be very little to deter him from anything, but now… Eating was one of many things Stephen didn’t enjoy doing anymore.

“You say that, but you’re so skinny, I’d think you-...” Tony paused. When Stephen glanced back up to his face, he could see the way his brows were furrowing and the conflicted expression. Whatever he wanted to say, he was clearly thinking better of it. The moment Stephen opened his mouth to ask, though, Tony’s expression wiped away. “Anyway! Nothing comes to mind? How about to drink? I got water, it’s filtered, too. I still have a bit of milk? I guess I usually keep that for cooking, though.”

“I highly doubt you would have tea,” Stephen quietly mused, looking back down to his book. “Or know how to prepare it.”

A snort caught Stephen’s attention again. “I’ve been living by myself for almost six months, I think I can make tea.” Tony took a step, probably to go back to the kitchen, before he paused. “Wait, I actually have some tea.”

“You do?” Stephen asked, raising one eyebrow yet still not looking up from the book.

“Yeah, I got it from town yesterday!” The excitement in Tony’s voice was as close to adorable as Stephen could muster, as he was already racing off to the other side of the apartment. “I got no fucking clue what kind it is, but it’s from the herbalist tea lady, so I’m betting it’s gotta be damn good.”

Stephen paused and lowered the book. “That wouldn’t happen to be the price you had to pay for my secrets, would it?”

Tony’s footsteps stopped short, and there were a few calculated seconds of silence. “...Well, yes, but-”

“Then the tea belongs to me. All of it.” Stephen turned the page, his smirk only growing on his face. It was a fair trade, he thought. Tea for thoughts. Though he heard Tony start to stammer, he soon quieted with some grumbles and walked back to the kitchen.

Perhaps it wasn’t going to be so bad here after all.

* * *

 

Stephen stared at the plate in front of him, observing the item sitting on top of it from all angles. How was he going to do this… His hands twitched as they sat in his lap, and he took a quick inventory.

There were silverware sitting next to the plate, a fork and a knife. He wouldn’t be able to use either of them without an embarrassing amount of difficulty. It wouldn’t be an option, not this time. Save the humiliation for later, he had already met his quota for the day.

His eyes flicked across the table to where Tony’s chair sat empty. He had already gotten up to go dig through his fridge for something to drink, having ‘forgotten’ something for himself. All Stephen cared about was that it gave him a moment to weigh his options. Furrowing his brow, Stephen looked down at his plate again.

A burrito. Well, a few burritos. They were tightly wrapped, almost professionally so. His first instinct was to reach out and grab it, but his hands simply hovered above them. The missing fingers on his right hand, and lack of dexterity, would make it complicated… 

It shouldn’t be this hard, he berated himself. He shouldn’t still be having this problem more than  _ two months _ after his injury. He should be  _ fine. _ But even when his hand was as healed as it may ever be, everything was still so… hard. Stephen glared down at the food, then put his right hand back into his lap. It would be useless, anyway. It could barely hold anything with such weak strength, almost no ability to curl into a fist with the high tension of the skin. It practically froze his hand.

Any second now, Tony was going to come back and complain that Stephen wasn’t eating. How was he supposed to eat? Just grab it? With his weaker, nondominant hand? What about when everything spills out? Just pick up the pieces of food between his fingers and shove them into his mouth like a toddler?

His left hand fisted beside the plate, while the right only twitched. Just eat. It shouldn’t be this hard, just  _ eat! _

“Hold up, I’m gonna take one of these with me,” Tony’s voice almost jerked Stephen out of his seat, but the other man just walked past the table and reached over to his plate. Stephen’s eyes flicked up, then found himself staring at Tony’s hands. The right was still curled around the battery, leaving only one other hand free. He reached down with his left and carefully adjusted his grip to hold the burrito from the bottom, then picked it up and took a bite. The filling was packed in tightly, and even as he took another bite, it didn’t spill out. Without looking back at Stephen, Tony walked past and headed back into the kitchen.

Stephen forced in a deep breath and stared back down onto his plate. Easy, he told himself. If Tony could eat it with one hand, so could he. With shaking fingers, Stephen tucked them beneath the roll and balanced the weight as best as he could. It shifted, but did not unravel from the neat tucking. His breath stopped in his chest, and it wasn’t until he took a bite that his body finally started to relax.

It was  _ good. _

There was real  _ meat. _

It was warm, it was juicy, and he was  _ eating it. _

A shiver traced down his spine, and before he knew it, he was taking the next bite, and the next, and even when a few pieces slipped out from the wrap and dropped onto the plate, he didn’t care.

“How’s it taste?”

Stephen almost choked on the bite, but swallowed it down. He blinked up to Tony who was sitting on the opposite side of the table, another burrito held expertly in his hand with a bite taken out of it. His battery was sitting in his lap, with his right arm curled around it. While there were many potential snarks that were sitting on the tip of his tongue, Stephen couldn’t bring himself to say any of them.

“It’s good,” he breathed, barely allowing the words out before he took another bite, followed by the last to polish off the first burrito. Without pausing to even take a drink of tea sitting right beside the plate, his hand fumbled with the next one. In his haste, he nearly dropped it, but at least he caught it between his teeth.

Stephen probably looked like a starving animal. He  _ felt _ like a starving animal. And every bite that he took didn’t feel like it was enough.

“H-hey, Steph, I’m glad you like it, but you might wanna slow down.”

Piercing eyes snapped up to Tony’s face, and Stephen’s hand reflexively tightened on the food. No, he wasn’t going to give up his food. Not for that slop he had to literally scoop up with his fingers to eat. This was his. His food. He earned this food. It was  _ his! _

Tony almost jerked out of the chair under his glare, his face visibly paling a couple shades. “Jesus, Doc, I’m not taking it away. It’s yours, okay? Your food. But you haven’t eaten properly in a long time, I’m guessing. You’re a doctor, you should know that shoving your face isn’t going to be good for you.”

Stephen actually felt something rumble in his throat, and his fingers were so tight around the burrito that it started to cut through the surface. The warm insides leaked out onto his fingers, immediately taking his focus. No, eat the food, don’t waste it. He snapped up the rest of the burrito in a couple bites, though it went down hard. Staring at his hand, though, he saw the traces of the meat. Don’t waste a drop, not a single bit, you might not know when you’ll eat again.

With no thought over his own presence, Stephen curled his tongue around each finger, catching even the smallest drip before it could fall onto the plate. All the while, his eyes were set onto the third burrito on the plate, watching it, making absolutely sure that it would not be snatched away from him.

Then he saw something reach out to his plate, and all he saw was red.

His right hand lashed out and clawed at the thief, and in his mind, he imagined him tearing down the thief and throwing him to the ground. But instead, all that came through his body was the burning pain racing up his arm like an infection. His fingers were latched tight around something cold that only made the pain dig that much deeper. Snapping his hand back, Stephen hissed and grabbed at his right hand, peeling his fingers back one by one.

They felt like they were snapping and crumbling under his hold, until whatever he had been clinging to finally fell out and rattled onto the table.

A wrench.

He stared at the tool, his breathing rushing in and out of his lungs while the pain still throbbed through his veins. His sluggish mind struggled to catch up with what he had done, what he was doing, and it finally connected the events. While still clutching his destroyed hand, Stephen finally gathered the courage to look back up.

Tony was standing out of his chair, backed up a few paces with his hands held out, empty. His dark eyes were wide, yet he did nothing. He didn’t yell, he didn’t scold, he didn’t reach out again. Just waited.

It felt like an eternity passed between them as Stephen tried to work his fingers loose again, his right hand twitching and flinching under the care of the left. Shame burned through his body as he stared down at the wrench again. He had attacked Tony, would have attacked Tony had that been his arm.

He was nothing more than a starved mongrel.

“I…” he croaked, the only word that could leave his lips. “I-I didn’t…”

His stomach ached, torn between begging to eat more of the food and the turmoil that he had caused. Why did he lash out like that? He wasn’t starving. Tony wouldn’t starve him. Right? But even with just eating the two small burritos, he could feel the ache burn deeper. Stephen tried to remember back to the last time he had a meal. Not just a mouthful of food.

“It’s okay,” Tony finally said, his voice soft. “I just don’t want you getting yourself sick. This isn’t your only meal. I’ll make more. You just need to pace yourself, alright?”

Of course he had to, it was something almost everyone knew about starvation. Don’t suddenly fill a stomach that had been so used to being empty. Stephen didn’t realize he was shivering until he saw how his left hand was shaking around the right and he tried to tuck his hands into his chest to hide them.

Even with how short that episode was, it felt like it had sucked away his strength. Mentally or physically, he wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t stop shivering. Was he cold? Was he tired? Stephen didn’t know. But he just…

It was too much for one day, his mind decided. He was overwhelmed. That had to be it. His breakdown outside the fence, the showering, this episode, he just… wanted to rest.

“C-couch,” he grunted out, already struggling to get out of his chair. Just lay down, that’s what he wanted. Lay down and escape everything. Rest.

Tony moved swiftly around the table, though still maintained a couple feet of distance. He was standing between Stephen and the living room, where Stephen could barely see the couch over his shoulder. “Bed. I’m not making you sleep on the couch.”

Bed?

Stephen blinked. He opened his mouth to refuse, but nothing came out. Taking Tony’s bed? Where was the bed?

“Consider it payback for me having to bunk with you in the hospital. Don’t bother fighting about it, I’m not letting you stay on the couch. It’s my treat.”

Okay. So bed. That’s where he was going. Stephen could feel his mind start melting away already without his control. He hated this, but he didn’t have the consciousness to hate it. His body just moved when Tony started motioning to the other side of the apartment, where he assumed Tony’s bedroom was. All the while, his left hand would not release the right, tucking it to his chest like a dirty secret he had to hide. The aching had numbed, much like the rest of him.

Tony stepped back in front of him and opened the door, then turned on the light. Stephen barely winced at the illumination, as his focus was tied directly to the bed.

It was massive. At least, compared to what he had been sleeping in for the past few years. In his life before the war, it wouldn’t have compared to what he slept in, the finest bed and  mattress money could afford in his luxury flat. But that felt like decades ago. Now, this bed looked like a gift bestowed from the heavens, and he almost didn’t make it to the mattress.

His legs buckled as soon as he approached the bed, sending him onto his side, where he immediately sank into the multitude of blankets and the soft bed. It was an instant relief, and that coupled with the warm food and his clean body almost made tears come to his eyes.

It was just so soft. Warm.

“Let’s get you tucked in, alright?” Tony’s voice echoed in the distance, and Stephen didn’t care. It was soft. It had been so long. It should be illegal to feel like this, so soon after behaving the way he did. He didn’t deserve the bed.

But Tony still guided him with the smallest touches that somehow didn’t pull Stephen out of his bliss. Just enough to prompt him to lay down completely and tuck a pillow beneath his head. The rest of the world moved without his input, with Tony pulling a blanket over his body, then walking back out of the room. The door didn’t close, though it didn’t need to. Stephen wouldn’t be moving.

His good hand finally released the bad and pressed against the mattress, feeling it sink. His fingers ran across the sheets that felt like silk. Everything surrounded him in warmth and safety. He could feel the beginning of tears creep into his eyes, but he gave them no thought.

He was safe, he was exhausted, he was warm. Nothing else mattered. Not even as the bed softly creaked with the weight on the other side or as the light was turned off, leaving him in darkness. It was the most comforting darkness he had ever been greeted with, and he finally closed his eyes.

There were no dreams that night. Just peace. A full belly, a clean body, and a soft bed radiating with warmth right beside him. At some point, that warmth finally engulfed him, pulling him deeper into the bliss he had been searching for so long.


	20. Not the Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In war, finding the enemy is easy enough. It's whoever is shooting back. But what about after the war, when everyone has suffered and no one has the right to happiness? Is there still an enemy amongst the broken?

Stephen was still asleep. Tony let him rest. God knows when the man last was able to sleep as long as he needed without being in the middle of a psychotic break. It had been strangely comforting to wake up that morning, curled up to a warm body. Maybe if that warm body was a little less… Not mentally there, he could enjoy it a lot more. But there was progress to be made, and until then, Tony had to be patient.

It wasn’t his biggest strength, though.

As soon as Tony woke up that morning and saw that Stephen was still asleep, though, he set to work to pass the time. He had intended on Wednesday being the day where he would gut through the apartment and clean, but since he got sidetracked, that had been left undone. The fact that Stephen had to clean a tiny corner of the couch to sit in was humiliating, and the doctor probably thought he was just a slob.

Well, he was, but he could try to hide it from Stephen a little longer?

The first thing he did was start cleaning up his projects, which meant he scooped up all the scrap metal and dumped it into an unused closet. Tools were tossed into a random box and set on top of the heap of metals, and whatever project he was working on was stacked on top of that. It led to a tower that was barely standing on its own strength, but it was better than nothing. At least when he shut the door, he didn’t hear it completely collapse under itself.

The next thing he started was normal cleaning. Picking up blankets, clothes, everything scattered on the floor. Though as he went to grab the dishes off the table, his eyes cast down to the wrench still on the floor.

Last night played through his head again, step by step. Tony should have known better than to feed Stephen a full meal, then be fine with Tony limiting that food. It wasn’t the first time Tony had seen someone fight to keep their food.

Fights have broken out in the marketplace when ration cards were at an all time low, where every piece of food was only won by those who could keep a grip on it. It was like throwing a piece of meat into a pen of starving dogs and watching them rip each other apart for just a bite. And there Tony had been, with a fully stocked kitchen, watching it all unfold from the other side of the fence. All he thought at the time was; why couldn’t they just get more ration cards? What had they spent their ration cards on instead of food? Was it their own fault that they were going hungry?

Tony would not have thought for a second that the subdued Stephen would turn into one of those beasts at the sight of food, but Tony had also never felt hunger the way those other people had.

In Afghanistan, they…

No. Don’t think about that. He wasn’t in the cave.

Tony sucked in a shallow breath and let it shudder out of his chest. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, Tony stared down to the bag over his shoulder, where the battery was sitting inside. Out of habit, he reached down and clicked the small button connected to a cracked monitor.

99% charge.

He had charged it throughout the night, just in case. Never had Tony allowed the battery to go lower than 20%. On average, he lost about ten or fifteen percent a day with a fresh battery. The longer he had the same battery, the less charge it would hold. This one was just a couple weeks old.

Tony glanced back down to the table and picked up the empty plates and the still-full glass of lukewarm tea. The less evidence of last night’s mishap, the better. If Stephen didn’t remember the incident, then that would be the best case scenario. At least, for Tony. Probably not so much for Stephen’s mental health.

That exact same thing was bound to take a beating today, because as he glanced up to his handmade calendar, he winced.

Friday.

This may not be a good day.

Tony built the plan in his head as he cleaned. If he could distract Stephen away from the day, he could bring Stephen with him to the market. As long as he made sure they walked in the direction of the meeting, Stephen wouldn’t be able to back out. At least, he hoped. Tony wasn’t in any state to wrestle him down, nor did he want to force Stephen to the meeting, but… Honestly, Stephen needed it now more than ever.

He also needed to see that he wasn’t as alone as he thought he was.

Halfway through cleaning dishes, Tony heard the bedroom door open with a soft creak. Turning his head, Tony tried to give Stephen the most easy going smile he could muster. Hide the plan, Tony. Everything was normal. You could do this. Don’t feel guilty about it until after you do it, not before. Ask for forgiveness, not permission.

“How’d you sleep?” Tony asked like it was the most natural thing in the world, when actually it had to be at least ten months since he last said that to someone who just crawled out of his bed. Even _longer_ since that person crawling out of his bed wasn’t someone he had fucked into the very bed the night before.

It was going to take some getting used to. Well, living with someone who wasn’t a _partner._ Unless he didn’t have to get used to that? Maybe? Probably not. It was probably going to be bone dry for a long time.

“Comfortably,” Stephen muttered, his voice in some variance of a rasp. The surgeon blinked and rubbed at his throat, also caught off guard. He glanced down to the table, only for his shoulders to slump a fraction. “The tea…”

“Don’t worry about it, I got a few more bags,” Tony quickly said, though felt a twist in his gut. So he did remember. If that was good or bad would remain to be seen.

“It’s a waste.”

“It’s just some colored water.”

“It’s not-”

Stephen cut himself off short, and by the sudden spike in his voice, Tony had a keen idea of what he was about to say. It doesn’t matter what it was, it was a waste. Which was true, but… what was Tony supposed to do? Walk all the way to the hospital with a glass of cold tea just so someone could drink it?

“I’m going to make you breakfast,” Tony decided aloud, dropping the dishes into the sink and wiping his hands onto a rag. “You remember where the bathroom is?”

“Yes,” Stephen sighed, reaching up and running his left hand through his hair. Tony took a moment to admire the way his hair fluffed up beneath his hand, the dark brown streaks turning chocolate under the lights. The silver streaks were practically shining, free of any dirt to muddy the color. And now with a clean shaven face, he could freely admire the sharp cheekbones, though he hoped it wasn’t because of Stephen’s lack of food. He was going to fix that.

“Need any fresh clothes?”

“I won’t fit into anything you offer.”

“Well, then we’re going to the market to get you some fresh clothes,” Tony decided again. He turned around and started flicking through the cabinets. Now what was he going to make…

“I’m not going to allow you to waste your ration cards on me.”

Tony groaned, almost smacking his forehead into the countertop. “Doc, you let me stay at your hospital for almost a week. Getting you some fresh clothes won’t bleed me dry, I swear. Now go do whatever you need to do in the morning, I’ll get you some food, and then-”

“I don’t do anything.”

His mouth hung open, the words in his mind still unable to grind to a halt for Stephen’s soft mutter. He turned around again and looked back at the doctor. “What do you mean you don’t do anything in the morning? Like, get ready for the day? I don’t know, brush your hair, your teeth, hygiene, do you even know what that is anymore?”

Tony’s mouth clicked shut by the end, and Stephen practically bristled. Shit. There goes his mouth again, making everything worse. Stephen’s eyes, a kaleidoscope of blues and greens today, sharpened and stared him down where he stood.

“Our water is used for consumption and washing wounds. Our soap is for preparation of surgery. Toothpaste is shared amongst a couple hundred people. Bathrooms are latrines. Showers are few and far between. Breakfast does not _exist._ Is there anything _else_ you don’t understand? We just barely survived a war, or do you even know what that is anymore?”

Stephen’s words echoed through his head, only making him flinch with every bite of his words. They had grown louder and louder, until his face was flushed red and there was an outline of a vein at his temple. Both of his hands were clenched into fists, even as the right one was shaking under the strain and possible pain. If anything, that only fueled Stephen on.

Something told him to fight back, to throw something right back into Stephen’s face about how Stephen was standing in his apartment after sleeping in his bed and eating his food and enjoying his hot shower, but all Tony had to do was look into Stephen’s eyes, and it all washed away. He was still so… empty. His clothes were hanging on his body, the collar of his shirt sinking down and revealing jutting collarbones.

But that didn’t mean Tony should stand here and take the abuse. “In case you forgot, I’m trying to help you,” Tony slowly said, trying to keep the biting edge out of his words. It didn’t happen, if judging by Stephen’s hardening expression. “Just…” Tony threw his hand towards the open cabinets. “I don’t know, eat. It might make you feel better. Just don’t eat a lot, we can do some shit when I get out of the shower.”

Breaking eye contact, Tony adjusted his hold onto the bag and stepped past Stephen, veering off to the bathroom. He definitely was going to need some cold water to calm down from this.

Not that he even had any hot water after Stephen’s shower yesterday.

When the door clicked shut, the tension held in Stephen’s body suddenly uncoiled and left him almost stumbling for any stability. Had it not been for the nearby dining chair, Stephen may have just fell back on his ass. Collapsing back into the chair, Stephen pressed his hands to his face in any attempt to rub away the sudden rush of emotions.

The entire last day was still filtering through his mind, of his _numerous_ slip ups and episodes. If this was what it felt like to be recovering, he’d hate to see what would happen if he got worse. Maybe he was getting worse. Yes, he knew he could be an ass, but now? Of all times?

A groan rumbled in the back of his throat, which turned into a hiss when he had to pull his right hand away. The pins and needles were coming back, and no amount of trying to shake them out would help. It was playing up today more than usual, making him extra prickly. It probably didn’t help that he had tried to attack Tony with his right hand to defend his food. Staring down at his arm, Stephen rotated it to examine it at all angles.

There were still some raw patches of skin from his shower, probably dead skin that had been washed off a bit harder than necessary. To be safe, he would need to wrap it up. Well, he was going to wrap it up anyway, if just because he didn’t need to expose it to anyone else’s eyes. Not even Tony. It was his weakness, and he will hide it as long and as often as he could.

Dragging himself back out of his chair, Stephen wandered across the apartment and opened up his bag sitting next to the bathroom door. On the other side, he could hear Tony start the shower, followed by a soft swear at what was probably still cold water. Well, he wouldn’t be able to get much warm water to soak the bandages in, then. Just wrapping them up would have to do.

He pulled out the fresh roll and walked back to the kitchen table, propping his arm up onto the flat surface. This may be a bit more difficult than normal, if just because he wouldn’t have an extra set of hands helping him. But Stephen also had to learn how to bandage his own arm. Letting out a sigh, Stephen unrolled out a foot of bandages and leaned down, taking the loose end between his teeth to hold it in place.

It was archaic, unsanitary, and looked ridiculous, but it worked. He settled for starting at the elbow and working his way down to his hand. His left hand worked to loop around the bandages, lifting his arm to help roll it beneath, while the bit between his teeth helped pull it tight. It was a constant circle of tugging, rolling, circling, pulling, but Stephen was halfway proud of the binding. It became sloppy at the hand, but there wasn’t much he could do, just wrap the entirety like a glove and finish by looping the end through some wraps to hold it down.

Finally releasing the end between his teeth, Stephen, tucked that bit in as well and admired his handiwork. It would do, at least for now. If he had some adhesive strips, that would definitely help. Perhaps if they went down to the market-

“You done being cranky?”

Stephen jumped at the voice, almost knocking his chair over. Jerking his head around, he stared back at Tony who was leaning casually against the kitchen counter, towel tucked over his shoulders while in a fresh change of clothes, all with a cup in his hands. How he hadn’t notice Tony at the very least walking into the kitchen was beyond him, and he immediately suspected Tony had just sat there and watched him struggle with his bandages out of spite.

Tony smirked, taking a drink from the cup. His hair was still damp, flat against his forehead and sticking out at angles everywhere else. The battery was back to its bag slung over his shoulder, and Stephen idly wondered how he showered with all those wires and electricity to worry about. Reaching back with one hand, Tony opened up the fridge and grabbed an apple, and without looking back, tossed it at Stephen.

With a red orb hurtling towards his face, Stephen ducked down, narrowly missing the apple. It instead smacked against the wall right behind him. “What the fuck?” Stephen yelped, staring wide eyed at the apple that had a rather hard dent in one side. “Are you crazy?”

“Shit, I forgot you weren’t Pep. She always caught it,” Tony winced, looking halfway towards apologizing, but just stuck his head back into the fridge. “I’ll get you another one.”

“N-no, I’ll eat it, just don’t throw shit at me,” Stephen stammered, leaning over and scooping up the apple. The innate instinct to not waste the food would not leave, even as he had to brush off the surface. It was still an apple, and it was still food.

“I wasn’t gonna throw another one,” Tony complained but Stephen was already focused on biting into the fruit. Dent be damned, it was still good. Fresh, even. It must have been picked up on Wednesday, if judging by the juices that immediately followed the crunch. Any other time, he would have made sure to keep some sort of manners, but as the juices spilled past his lips, he couldn’t care.

It was food and it was good. That was all he cared about.

He’d been so focused on the apple that his attention was slow to be drawn back to Tony clearing his throat. Squinting back at him, Stephen licked his lips before taking another bite. Tony visibly shifted. 

“We’re going down to the market to get you clothes and I’m not letting you worm your way out,” Tony grunted, glancing over Stephen’s shoulder. “You’re under my house, my rules-”

“I am not your _child,”_ Stephen muttered from behind the apple, almost reaching up with his right hand to brush away the juices that ran down his chin. Yeah, he was sloppy, but it was post-war. There weren’t any napkins at their disposal, and manners were for the wealthy.

Tony rolled his eyes, so far back that Stephen feared he would fall over. “Why do you have to take everything I say and make me a dick out of it? You need to get out of the house, and that’s what we’re going to do.” Swiping an apple for himself out of the fridge, Tony adjusted his bag over his shoulder and strode into the living room. “I’m giving you five minutes to get ready.”

Prickles ran down his back, the echo of Tony’s words through Tao’s voice only making his heart ache momentarily. All she wanted was to get him outside, too. But what if he didn’t want to go? He was already being held here against his will, why should he listen to whatever Tony said? The only orders Stephen would take were from Tao’s own lips, not from a random guy who had chosen Stephen as a pet project.

The sourness on his tongue couldn’t be washed away by the apple, and he held fast in his chair. Swallowing down one more bite, he muttered if mostly to himself, “And if I refuse?”

Tony’s steps stopped short, and Stephen stiffened. Damn. He needed to keep his mouth shut or he might never be allowed back home.

Stephen kept his head down as he listened hard to Tony’s returning steps, until he heard the other kitchen chair scrape against the hardwood floor. It was dragged around the table until it was sat down directly to Stephen’s left. He could feel the goosebumps rising on the back of his neck along with Tony’s stare as Tony sat down onto the chair just out of the corner of his eye. All he did was take another bite of the apple.

“Doc, look at me.”

No, he really didn’t want to. But it took only a quick glance out of the corner of his eye to catch Tony’s expression. The other man was sitting in the chair and leaned forward, elbows on his knees and his hands tightly clasped. His dark whiskey eyes were wide, constantly scanning Stephen’s face and body language, analyzing him. His entire body was tense, and Stephen wondered if Tony was about to give up.

Maybe he should and save them both the effort. At that thought, Stephen mentally berated himself. He was supposed to be the mature one. Why was he behaving like this in the first place? Was it because he was backed into a corner? A wounded animal ready to lash out at the first chance? He was supposed to be better than this!

It was only for those reasons, so he told himself, that he straightened up in the chair and turned to face Tony. He placed the apple down onto the table and idly rotated it in his left hand, if just to keep himself from grabbing at his arm like he did so many times. He wasn’t being attacked, he told himself.

Tony seemed slightly relieved when their eyes finally met, but he didn’t miss a beat to let it sink in. “I get that this is freaking you out. You lose your mind and now you’re taken out of the hospital and now you’re in a place you’re not use to. I get it. Believe me.”

Stephen bit down on the inside of his cheek to hold back an outburst. He promised himself that he would let Tony speak first. At least until he said something particularly stupid. Stephen held his gaze, his hand finally stilling around the apple.

Sucking in a deep breath, Tony continued after a pause. “But no one here is your enemy. I’m not your enemy. I’m not trying to fight you. You aren’t here for shits and giggles, you’re here because people want you to get better.”

His jaw clenched up. And he was supposed to just accept that? A man he barely knew was here to help him more than anyone else had attempted. Just a pet project, his mind reminded. Damaged goods that were being repurposed for someone else’s amusement. His fingers tightened around the apple, but he somehow held his silence.

Tony waited for some outburst, but once he realized Stephen was giving him the chance to talk uninterrupted, he straightened up to meet Stephen eye to eye. “You told me that people who want to do something good with nothing in return are trying to be forgiven a debt they can’t repay. Why does that have to be a bad thing? What’s so wrong about me wanting to do something right for once in my life? And why can’t it be helping you? I get that you feel cornered, that no one’s on your side, but people are. You’ve seen horrible shit, you’ve had people do horrible shit to you. At least let me try to help you. And don’t even do it for me, just do it for yourself. You’ve done good for so many people, you deserve to do it for yourself.”

There was something that felt like a pinprick in his chest. Something sharp pushed into him. Maybe it was how Tony’s eyes held his so steadily, the swirl of emotions so open. It washed away his thoughts momentarily, and deep inside of him, he wanted to accept Tony’s words. But the world wasn’t that kind. It didn’t allow people to do good. Not without punishment in return.

“I have seen children try to murder a woman who did nothing but give,” Stephen breathed, his words so thick in his throat that he had to swallow. “I have been attacked in a place of safety. I have had civilians bleed out under my hands who did nothing but exist. Where was their chance?”

Tony paused, his lips parted, but no matter how much he may have wanted to, he didn’t look away. He was _listening,_ in a way Stephen felt no one had in a long time. All he ever got in return was ‘war is war and bad things happen to good people.’ “I can’t really answer that. But what I can say was that what happened to you and them wasn’t right. Nothing will make that right. But you’re more than… this.” He motioned to Stephen’s right arm tucked into his lap. “And if I have to be the one to give you that chance, then I’ll do it. I’m not giving up on you, even if you already have for yourself.”

They sat in silence, just staring at each other, for what felt like an eternity. Silent conversations swapping back and forth, and every time Stephen opened his mouth to fight back, no words would come. It was only when he leaned back into his chair and finally dropped his eyes that Tony did the same.

“Okay,” Tony sighed, taking a moment before standing up. He nudged the chair back under the table and shifted the bag to rest against his back, before stopping in front of Stephen. “Enough heavy shit. Let’s go fuck around in the market and see what we can find.”

Blinking back up, Stephen found himself staring at Tony’s outstretched left hand. His own twitched in response. He felt his palm burn at the thought of reaching out, of touching Tony’s own hand, and for a split second, he saw the white smoke pouring off of Tony’s blistering skin. But then it was gone. The catch in his throat was pushed out in a shudder.

Reaching up, he carefully slid his hand into Tony’s and felt the squeeze around his fingers. Stephen squeezed back.

* * *

Seeing clear blue skies was such a strange sight that it left Stephen breathless. Or maybe that was the jacket Tony made him wear squeezing his chest like a binder. Reaching up with his left hand, he adjusted the white badge attached to his shirt. The last thing he needed was to get in trouble on the second day here. He then took a second to stare down at his right hand, at the scarf that was carefully wrapped and tied around his wrist to not slip off. Tony hadn’t questioned the choice, because he probably already knew why such a strange piece of clothing was so precious.

If Stephen had been able to fit it, he may have taken Tao’s yellow coat. It was still stained with blood and was in desperate need of cleaning and stitching from where the knife had slit through. Seeing her without it was almost a sin. Running his left hand across the red fabric, Stephen listened idly to Tony.

“I got a guy who’s been supplying me clothes ever since I got here. He’s gonna make sure everything’s clean, stitched up, as new as you can get. He’s even got glasses if you can believe it. Not great ones, but better than nothing. I can get you some sunglasses if you want them.”

“It’s not quite my style,” Stephen hummed, fully aware that Tony had put on sunglasses the second they stepped outside. “And the sun rarely is out enough to make it worth the bother.”

“Or you can get them to look awesome.”

“I doubt that.”

“Alright, then how about gloves? Could see if he’s got something special, a compression glove?”

Stephen tried to not let his steps falter. He knew that Tony was trying to talk about his arm in a casual way, in any attempt to make Stephen more comfortable to talk about it, but if given the choice, Stephen would rather cut off the limb and forget it ever existed. It was only because he would have certainly died when he was injured that they did not.

“Okay, no gloves. Not yet.” Tony shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets. “You could be a hat person. Get you your own scarf for when it gets cold.”

Tony continued on his ramblings as they walked down the street, while Stephen finally turned his gaze to The Wall. Being on the other side was still unnerving and left his gut in a twist. All he knew was the other side being splattered with blood and filled with bullet holes. Bodies leaned against the stone. A shudder ran through his body and he looked away. He could just see where the gate would be up ahead. The house where the two guards were living in was the first thing that caught his attention. It must be dull to guard the same gate day in and day out, especially when outsiders were much too scared to approach it.

Already he could hear Sam’s cheery voice, with a slight rasp on the edges. Tony paused, holding his hand out to Stephen to stop him short.

“I swear, she was up to my hip at the least. Built like a tank, sweetest thing you’ll ever meet. Had no idea what breed she was.”

“Not a German Shepard, not a labrador, none of those?”

“Nah. She was pure white like snow. My sister tried taking a picture of Maxie during a snow day and all you could see were her eyes, nose and mouth. We had to put a collar on during the winter so we couldn’t lose her. And she’d get these huge clumps of snow in her fur that we’d have to use a hairdryer and melt off of her.”

“You’re gonna love these two,” Tony murmured to Stephen, a grin spreading over his face. “Every day, they’re always doing something. When Pep’s gone, I’d come out here just to hang out with them. Cliff’s an ass, but Sam’s the lamb to his lion. Can’t even show a tooth at Sam if he tried.”

While Stephen could easily pick out Sam’s voice, the other was harder to understand, thick with some sort of accent. Quieter, more subdued. Calm. But there was something there. Something that felt… familiar.

“I’ve never owned a dog. My mother was allergic. There were canine units in my squad, though.”

“Do you think we’ll get canine units?”

“I highly doubt it. Much too expensive, and they wouldn’t spare them for something like this.”

“Oh. Well, tell me about the ones in your squad.”

“I didn’t interact with them often.”

“Damn, a whole year and you still won’t tell me shit.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

Tony started walking again, motioning for Stephen to follow. The other man walked ahead, jogging down the path. “Heard you were out of commission yesterday, Clifford,” Tony called, his grin widening. “Lassie had to take up patrol all by himself.”

Stephen didn’t move, nervousness creeping into his body. Another guard he had to meet. Another guard who would probably want to search through his things, pat him down, one who would probably not be so easily swayed like Sam was. Stephen swallowed, then crept a few steps closer. He still couldn’t see the guards or the main fence for that matter, hidden behind some trees. That gave him some time to compose himself. If Tony was friends with the guards, then they couldn’t be terribly bad. Sam hadn’t pressed hard on the issues with not wanting to be touched. He could hope for the same from this ‘Cliff.’

“Hey, I don’t know if Sam told you or not, but I got someone I want you to meet,” Tony added, glancing over his shoulder and back at Stephen. He frowned when he saw just how far Stephen lingered behind. “So you better be on your best behavior, I don’t want you freaking him out by being a dick.”

“Where is he?” Cliff said, his voice dropping to monotone. All business, Stephen guessed. Was it too late to just turn around and go back to Tony’s apartment? “Did Sam give him his badge?”

“Yep, he’s all checked in.” Tony was still staring back at Stephen, the frown only setting deeper and concern flickering over his face. He raised his hand and waved for Stephen to come closer. “Sam’s got Clifford on a leash, you don’t have to worry about him. Okay?”

Biting on his bottom lip, Stephen gathered up whatever courage he could scrape together. He had to trust that Tony was telling the truth, even when he feared that this would turn into another mishap. The last thing he wanted was to embarrass himself to _both_ guards. Then again, he was sure Sam would already have told Cliff all about his… whatever he wanted to call it. Breakdown? Attack? But he just had to get it over with.

One more deep breath, and Stephen straightened his spine, finally stepping down the path. There was a four-way intersection ahead, the left leading to the gate and the right leading to where he assumed the other soldiers were stationed. Going straight would be to where he assumed more people lived. If there were others. Stephen had yet to see _anyone_ other than Tony and Sam.

Stephen quickly tucked his right arm behind his back, the instinct to hide his weakness just as strong as ever. Don’t be afraid, don’t show weakness. As long as he followed the rules, he wasn’t going to be hurt. When he reached the intersection, Stephen glanced once more at Tony before turning to face the gate.

Two soldiers still in uniform. He immediately recognized Sam, the only difference to Sam wearing sunglasses with his hands in his pockets. He was leaning against the fence, watching from afar. That’s when Stephen locked eyes to the other soldier, the one walking towards them.

That was the moment where Stephen’s body turned to stone.

Silver hair fanned out across his forehead. Sharp cheekbones. Piercing dark eyes. The assault rifle held in his hands. The name patch _Mikkelsen_.

That same man with those piercing eyes, lips pulled back into a snarl. His words echoing in that small hospital room, ringing in his ears.

_“I give my life away in service to protect all of you, and yet you turn your backs on me! You have sentenced her to death!”_

Coming closer. His hand tightens on the gun. Desperation giving way to anger. Anger giving way to madness.

_“I come to you for only one thing; insulin. And yet you deny me that.”_

_“We have none to spare,”_ Tao’s soft voice tries again, sadness and pain echoing. _“Kaecilius. Bring her to us. We will treat her here.”_

_“She won’t survive!”_

_“We simply cannot give away supplies-”_

_“Her life is worth less than a stack of ration cards? You call yourselves doctors, yet you abandon those who have nothing to give.”_

Toe to toe. Sanity hanging by a thread. His finger brushes the trigger. A last attempt.

_“I must ask you to step back, or I will be forced to-”_

_“You will ask of nothing from me. Because the debt comes due. And from where I stand, it is her life… or yours.”_

Everything blurred. There was nothing but that man and the gun. They landed hard on the tile, bullets blasting at random. Blood slicked the ground. Fighting for the gun. Dark eyes burning into his own. Snarls of punishment that were once begs for her life. Trying to rip the gun out of his grasp. Pinned down. The gun between their bodies. Hands scrambling to gain a hold. Pushed beneath his chin. Clawing at the trigger.

Then it took just one moment, one swift motion and pushing the gun beneath his chin. It was meant to just be a warning. A threat to leave.

But then he grabbed the trigger.

A spray of bullets, a fountain of blood. His hand squeezed harder on the trigger. All he could do was stare at those eyes. He finally wrenched his hands off the gun, pushing it out from between them, clattering on blood-stained tile.

He didn’t mean to. He tried to save him. Silver hairs caught between his fingers as he tried to pull the skull back together. A soup of blood and brain pouring out. No pulse, CPR, he didn’t mean to. No, no, _no,_ he couldn’t be dead, he wasn’t a murderer, he was a _doctor,_ why can’t he _save him!_

But he…

_Kaecilius…_

The man that stood in front of him.

“I-I… I killed you. You’re _dead.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The absolutely beautiful, breathtaking art of Cliff Mikkelsen was created by Stevie! Go look at more of his amazing artwork at his [Twitter,](<a%20href=) [Tumblr.](https://osheets.tumblr.com/)


	21. Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has a reflection. Stephen isn't sure what he sees in his own.

This was it. This was where it ended. Where his mind will lay in shatters, haunted by the man whose life he had stolen.

Silver hair soaked in blood, clumped together, the skull burst open where the bullets carved their path. Blood streaming down from his nose, his eyes, his mouth, gushing in an unending tide. Staining the military uniform. Gurgles of the last breath of air pushed out of his lungs and through the river of blood. The worst part was the twitching. Nerves going haywire at the sudden assault, their final burst before burning out.

Stephen had watched so many people die in horrible ways. But every sound and detail was permanently burned into his mind. Replaying over and over and over, through the man that stood in front of him. Standing still. Mocking Stephen with his presence. Cursed from the blood he had spilled.

Gurgles, the last pockets of air bursting through the throat, twitching hands, legs, spasms through the body, a pool of blood, handprints, eyes that stared at him, eyes that stared through him, mouth hanging open, the river of blood, blood leaking down the eye sockets, blood tears, maybe he felt nothing, maybe he felt everything, maybe he didn’t die right away, maybe he drowned, maybe he wanted to live, maybe he wasn’t going to hurt Tao, maybe, maybe,  _ maybe, maybe- _

“North District.”

North District, guns, bullets, military, uniforms soaked in blood, blood soaked silver hair, North District, screaming, hands on his body, yanking, CPR, try to bring him back, he can fix this, he can fix this, maybe if he pumped hard enough, long enough, maybe if he pulled the head back together, maybe it was one big puzzle, maybe, maybe-

“You’re in the North District. You’re safe.”

Safe, not safe, no safety, nowhere is safe, supposed to be safe, North District, not safe, military base, safe, patrols, bullets, guns, gaping mouth, chunks of brain, squishing between his fingers, put it back, scoop it up, put it back, put it back-

“You’re in the North District. You’re safe. I’m Tony Stark. I’m standing next to you. You’re safe.”

Tony, Tony, standing, no laying, sprawled across the floor, convulsions, choking on the blood, no, standing, no blood, safe, dark eyes, whiskey eyes, dead eyes, bulging eyes-

“Deep breaths. You’re safe. No one’s dead. You didn’t hurt anyone.”

He didn’t? No one’s dead? But he did, he hurt, he killed, he was a doctor, he heals, not kills, but he killed, and he’s dead, and… And…

And Tony. And the North District.

Breathe. Fill the lungs. Burns. Let it back out. Aches. Again.

Tony. Safe.

He blinked, and the blood film across the scene blurred away. Whiskey brown eyes stared back at him. North District. That was where he was at. North District with Tony Stark and he was safe.

North District, Tony Stark, and he was losing his mind again.

The realization swarmed over his body and almost dragged him back into the neverending swamp of noise in his mind. The world snapped to attention in that moment, and Stephen realized that he was on his knees, the dull throb telling him that he had not so gently fallen to them at some point. He felt gravel digging into his left palm, while spikes of pain constantly jerked up the entirety of the right arm. Glancing down, Stephen saw his hands crossed on top of the other, the textbook position for giving CPR.

Stephen tried to stagger up to his feet, but the world turned white for a second too long, and he heard Tony curse. “Stay down, Sam’s getting you some water. Just breathe. You’re back.”

He was back. But to what? More humiliation?

All he could do was stare at his hands and feel the breath rasping through his throat. The bandages around his hands were coming loose. If he didn’t fix them, they would slowly unravel completely and leave his skin exposed.

Footsteps came, and Stephen was aware of Sam’s voice in the background, barely able to be distinguished in his still foggy mind. He sounded frightened. Tony’s voice rumbled back into his mind, telling him that he had a cold towel and was going to put it over his shoulders. Stephen swallowed. The towel felt like ice, but the shock drew in more of his senses away from his arms and his thoughts.

When Stephen raised his head again, Tony was sitting in front of him with a cup of water. He didn’t shove it into his face, just waited patiently. Stephen rocked back slowly onto his knees again, lifting his hands and staring down at his palms. The right one shook with failing strength, so he took the cup with the left. The water went down hard. He gave the cup back.

“Alright,” Tony said, still not taking his eyes off of Stephen. “You can stay sitting. Just… can you tell me what happened?”

Stephen dropped his head down again and stared at the pavement. He can. But he didn’t want to. Because he was selfish. Because he was humiliated. Because he was sure the moment he lifted his head, that the man he saw, the man he had killed-

_ He was still there. _

He choked, eyes widening as he stared at the soldier bathed in blood. Dead dark eyes. Crimson stained hair. Blood leaking from between his lips.

“I-I killed you.”

The lips moved, more blood gushing out and dripping onto the pavement. “Evidently, not very well.”

“Not a good time to try to be funny,” Tony grunted, his voice taking a hard edge. Stephen couldn’t look away, though.

How could those eyes still see him? Dead, lifeless eyes. Blood leaking out of every orifice of his head. How was he alive? How was he breathing through the hole in his throat?

“What do you mean?” Tony finally asked, his voice attempting to be soft but Stephen could hear the strain.

“I…” What did he mean? He meant he  _ killed _ him! Was he hallucinating? Well, obviously he was hallucinating the blood and the gore, but was he not even there? Another long line of blood dripped down the man’s chin, thick and dark.

Tell Tony. Maybe he can make it stop.

“I-I killed him. At the hospital. H-he… Kaecilius…”

The man blinked. The blood slipped down faster from the motion. His expression went stone cold.

“Y-you were trying to get insulin, for your wife, you said she was dying, a-and you had a gun, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t want to hurt you, but I didn’t have a choice-”

Laughter.

Stephen’s body turned stiff at the sound. The blood fell in thick plops now, out of the man’s dislocating jaw. It drained and splattered against his uniform. He tilted his head back and laughed again. Now he could see the hole the bullets created, from beneath his chin all the way up through the skull. It was such a… cruel sound. And when the man stared back down at him, there was a blood-coated smile. Maybe Stephen was not the only one who lost his mind.

“Cliff-” Sam started, reaching towards the blood-stained man, but he gave Sam no sign that he even heard the word.

Because he was already kneeling down in front of Stephen, so close that he could almost smell the scent of blood and rot. A shudder tore through his body. The man reached down and tapped at the name patch on his chest, reading  _ Mikkelsen. _ “We do look quite alike, I will admit that.”

Look… alike?

But then the man tilted his head, and through the blood, Stephen started to see it. The short hair. The slimmer jawline. The cheekbones a little more pronounced. Flecks of scarring around the left eye. Stephen had memorized the face of the man he killed against his will, and this… This wasn’t it. He blinked, and the blood wiped away. The blood did not belong to this man.

“Kaecilius was my brother,” Cliff finally said, just as the information clicked into place. “A brother you were unfortunate enough to have to kill.”

The silence that followed couldn’t be broken by anything short of an atomic bomb. Cliff tilted his head, refusing to let their gaze break, even as Stephen felt every ounce of blood freeze under the stare.

This was how he was going to die, wasn’t it? It was fair. A life for a life. To think the world would be so cruel as to practically deliver the family of the man he killed to his doorstep, already armed and ready to execute.

Sam moved first, wrapping an arm around Cliff’s shoulder to pull him back, but Cliff barely budged. “Don’t do this,” Sam hissed through clenched teeth. “Don’t hurt him, he said he didn’t mean to, just listen to him, don’t!”

“What is it that my brother did that he was punished by death, mister…?”

“D-doctor,” was all Stephen could squeak, as if his title could sway his mind. He was a doctor, he could heal people, he was still of use even without his right arm, there had to be a reason to let him live.

Cliff’s head tilted further, lips pressed together in a firm line. “Mister Doctor.”

“N-no, Strange!” he blurted.

A shrug. As nonchalant as a discussion of the weather, as if he wasn’t holding the assault rifle in his arms that would make quick work of Stephen’s pathetic life. “Perhaps. But that is not for me to judge. I am instead asking you to tell me what my brother did to deserve death, Mister Doctor.”

“H-he said he needed insulin for his wife, but we couldn’t spare any, and he couldn’t bring his wife, he had his gun and I-I, he-”

“Threatened you for medical care for his ailing wife, care you could not or would not give.” It was like he was playing a game. Toying with the prey trapped between his claws. With one hand still gripping the assault rifle, the other reached to his side, and the still-rising sun glinted light off the combat knife the soldier brandished. 

His steady fingers rotated the blade, the tip pointed to Stephen’s chin. An idle threat that had Tony trying to push his way between the two, yet he did not succeed. Cliff would not be moved. Stephen swallowed hard, his eyes focused onto the blade. Think, Stephen, think!

“He was going to kill Tao, a-a doctor, I tried to grab the gun, it was an accident, I tried to save him but I…” He what? Tried to save the man that had most of his brain left on the tile floor? A pathetic effort that was meaningless. And Stephen had a feeling that Cliff knew far too well.

“And so you killed him. Killed a husband and a father who was desperate enough to fight for what he needed.”

“Yes.” That’s all there was. Stephen had killed a man which led to Tao’s near death by the hands of his revenge-seeking children.

“And by doing so… you protected the doctors who were able to continue saving lives. The debt has already been paid.”

Cliff stood, already wrapping his gun around his back and sliding the combat knife back into its holster. He produced a pack of cigarettes from one of the numerous pockets and shook out one of the sticks. “Had I been a good brother, perhaps I would have still taken vengeance. But lucky for you, I am not. You’re free to go.”

As soon as Cliff stepped back, Tony had already pushed himself in between the space, acting as a barrier between the two just in case this was just a ploy to have Stephen drop his guard. Sam could only watch with his mouth hanging open, just as stunned as any of them of what had just transpired.

All Stephen could do was try to force in a few breaths of air, trying to force down the adrenaline still rushing through his veins. He had stared death in the face, and death wasn’t interested in taking him. Not now.

By the time Cliff had pulled out a lighter, he had already turned away from the group and walked to the gate. With a simple swipe of his ID, the fence rattled open. Then, as if nothing had happened, he leaned his back against the wall and pulled the lighter to the end of the cigarette, taking in a deep draw as soon as it was lit.

“...Cliff, are you fucking  _ out of your mind?” _

Tony’s voice barely had Cliff do much more than look up from the corner of his eye. Tony stood, hands fisted into the bag holding his battery. He took a single step forward, if just to not abandon Stephen on the ground. “You can’t just fucking do that to him! You have  _ no _ fucking idea what he’s gone through!”

“I don’t. And yet I do not care.” Smoke filtered through Cliff’s thin lips as he spoke, studying the glowing embers at the end of the cigarette. “I’d advise you both to leave before I change my mind.”

Tony’s teeth snapped together, lips peeling back into a snarl, and he may have done something he would have regretted had it not been for Sam stepping in front of him.

Even as his hands were shaking, Sam still pressed his palm to Tony’s shoulder. He seemed to be trying to hold onto whatever authority he still held over the situation. “Just go, please, I’ll talk to him, just…”

Stephen did not need any prompting. No, he wanted out. Now. The sooner he was away from this man, the farther away he was, the better. That was all he could let his mind focus on. Not those piercing dark eyes that cloned Kaecilius’, the voice that was still echoing through his ears, the guilt bubbling back to the surface, none of that. He couldn’t. It was why he scrambled back up to his feet and rushed past the others, deaf to Tony’s sudden call of his name.

Just get out of this place.

* * *

For the longest time, they didn’t speak. Just walked. Stephen stared straight ahead with no acknowledgement to Tony walking right beside him. His left hand twitched over his right arm, curling it to his chest and holding it tightly. All the while he fought to keep his mind blank.

He was in the Central District, he told himself. He was safe with Tony Stark. Central District, Tony Stark, safety. Repeating over and over when thoughts tried to prod their way in. Think of nothing else. Let nothing in.

But then Tony’s voice managed to pierce through his flimsy shield.

“Tell me what kind of doctor you are.”

Stephen’s head snapped up from where he had been staring at the ground, blinking and seeing for the first time since leaving the North District. He stared back at Tony, mouth partially open but the words drying up in his throat. What?

Tony shrugged, his sunglasses already perched on his nose and his hands in his pockets. “I mean, you can’t just be a regular doctor. Right? Did you specialize in something?”

If Tony was merely attempting to get Stephen’s mind off of the incident and to something else… it was working. Stephen decided that he’d  _ let  _ it work, as if it was his choice. He cleared his throat and swallowed. “I was a neurologist,” he said plainly, trying not to flinch at his own words. Was. Now he was just like any other doctor, even less of one. A doctor who couldn’t even touch a patient without the fear of burning.

“Are.” Tony lifted one hand and tilted his glasses down, just enough to look at Stephen from the corner of his eye. “You  _ are _ still a neurologist. I mean, I doubt all that medical training just fell out of your brain because you were hurt.”

“I can’t operate with my hand like this.”

It may be one of the few times Stephen openly spoke about his hand, other than the self-degradation he constantly exposed himself to. But if he was going to be staying with Tony, then he needed to know just how much of a handicap Tony was giving himself.

Stephen stopped walking and stared down at his hands again. He painstakingly released his right hand, then held out the left. Steady. Even after all the panic and the strain on his mind, his hand was still steady. Then he held out the left. His entire arm quivered under the strain, and trying to stretch out his fingers resulted in tremors and twitches that would not be soothed by any method. There was nothing Stephen could reasonably do. Physical therapy? How? By who? Having another neurosurgeon operate and try to repair the nerves? Stephen couldn’t even  _ begin _ to think of the damage. By this time, there would be no repairing the severed and damaged nerves.

The only neurologist he could trust to find the answers was himself. He was the one who had been finding new ways to repair nerve damage when others couldn’t. And now he didn’t have the hands to find anything at all.

“I can’t even hold a pencil, let alone a scalpel.”

“Doesn’t mean you still don’t know what to do.” Tony moved carefully, as if a sudden movement would frighten Stephen away, and stood in front of Stephen’s hands. By instinct, Stephen curled the right back to his chest, while the steady left still reached out. That was the safe hand. He hoped. That wasn’t the hand that would burn. That would hurt someone else. That was the bad hand.

The bad, worthless, destructive hand. The same that had once guided his procedures to save lives was now nothing but a reminder of the lives he could not save and the ones he almost ended by his touch.

“Knowing isn’t good enough. Not in this world.” His right hand clenched, sparks of pain tingling through whatever nerves were left. “I can’t save anyone like this.”

“I doubt that.” Tony shrugged and turned away, already walking down the path. It left Stephen blinking, then rushing to catch up. What could he possibly mean  _ ‘I doubt that?’ _ Being unable to be a proper doctor was  _ exactly _ why he couldn’t save anyone! But before he could say just that, Tony continued.

“I mean, you’re still here. You’re still helping people. Maybe you just need time to help yourself for a little while? Doctor your own brain instead of someone else’s. And I bet if push comes to shove, you’ll find a way to operate again.” Tony flashed back a smile over his shoulder. “Who knows, I’m the fixer. I’ll just make you a new hand. Do you want blasters? I can do blasters. Lasers. You name it, I’ll put it in.”

All Stephen had in response at first was a raised eyebrow, waiting for the punchline he wasn’t getting. “You’re telling me you can somehow manufacture a working limb that can shoot ‘lasers.’”

“Doc, you have no fucking idea what I can make. Believe me, you give me a workshop, and I’ll build you an entire exoskeleton operating masterpiece. You’ll be back to your old operating self.” He paused, then shrugged. “I mean, once the world isn’t shit.”

A common barrier to everyone, it seemed. With a ‘shit world,’ there were ‘shit options.’

“I’d rather you not add blasters, if I can make the request.”

“Picky, picky.”

“If only to not accidentally activate them in the middle of cranial surgery.”

“Why do you have to be so rational?”

“I guess one of us has to be.”

One of them. Wasn’t that an odd thought to have.

* * *

Never had Stephen been so relieved yet so apprehensive of visiting the marketplace before. There had been more times where he absolutely hated the idea of going rather than not, especially after suffering burns to his arm, but to be so mixed? It was certainly a first. Normally he would grumble and complain to himself the whole way, but perhaps it was because they were at the market for a reason other than getting supplies for their run down hospital.

No, they were here for  _ him. _ Because Tony wanted to get him things. Maybe.

Because they had only taken the first few steps through the main gate before Tony moved his arm out in front of him to stop Stephen from going any farther. “Wait, Doc, one stop before we go get the clothes.”

Another stop?

Stephen blinked but followed, because he had no reason not to. If this was still a ploy to sell Stephen off, then he may as well be impressed with the lengths Tony was willing to go. It was while they were walking farther and farther away from the normal shops of the marketplace that Stephen became more hesitant than intrigued.

Very rarely did Stephen ever see parts of the marketplace that weren’t strictly… well, the marketplace. Shops and keepers waiting for someone to come across their booth to buy their wares. But where Tony was leading him was what everyone called the ‘services’ marketplace.

It was comprised of a few apartment buildings that had been, for the most part, gutted out and abandoned during the height of the war. It was only when the districts were established and the sector was under military law that people repurposed the buildings as… well, anything.

One building was entirely for the living quarters of the shopkeepers, while some floors were rented out to those who needed a place to rest and couldn’t get back home before the curfew. While most may think of standard hotels with rooms set aside for a singular person, that was far from the case. With so many people constantly entering the districts and very few leaving, it led to very tight living spaces. If you came early enough, you sometimes get a mat to sleep on and maybe a wool army blanket. Cots had long since broken down, having been the excess from the military and rarely given in good condition to start with.

Another building was comparable to a multi-layered mall, where each room was another shop or service waiting to be used. It was as close to normalcy that their district held. Some even fashioned signs and decorated their little shops, breaking walls to expand certain ones. It was a building Stephen had only been a handful of times, normally when he would return from being shipped out to different places of war for his duties. But it was a place that was higher priced than the normal marketplace, with services that were not as… decent to be displayed in public.

The entire top two floors were, to be blunt, a brothel. The floor beneath that was a popular drug-lair. Mixed between those three floors were said to be where heads of local gangs would mingle.

The building was nicknamed ‘Cielo,’ and while it was at first a name to symbolize their rising above the war, it now was far from the heaven it attempted to portray. Of course, that was the building that Tony was walking towards.

“What exactly are we doing here?” Stephen muttered, eyeing the top floors warily. Windows were constantly broken out, with legend saying that those who couldn’t pay for the ‘services’ would be thrown out. Being eight floors high, it certainly deterred those who had tight pockets. Tony, though, was not one of those people. All he hoped was that Tony didn’t expect Stephen to be thrilled if they were to go to the higher floors for some… relaxation.

“You’ll love it, don’t worry.”

“That is precisely why I worry,” Stephen sighed in return, glancing to the guards of the front door. Surprisingly, or maybe not, they nodded to Tony and let him through without worry. A shudder worked through Stephen’s body as he followed close behind, feeling the guards’ stares burning into his body. Just stay calm, he told himself. Don’t get thrown out.

Literally.

There was a low hum of people as they stepped inside, and at first glance, it looked like a decent cluster of storefronts. People were walking in and out, mingling in the small halls between stores and make-shift booths, but as Stephen finally let himself relax and readied himself to blend into the crowd, Tony instead veered to the right. Straight to the stairs.

Damn. It would only get worse with each floor they climbed.

Swallowing, Stephen followed. Entering the second floor led to mostly the same sight, a clean floor with plenty of people, but Tony just kept climbing the stairs. “If you intend on taking me to the top floor, you’re mistaken. I do  _ not _ need that type of cheering up.”

“You’re a pervert, we’re not going there,” Tony called back without looking, focused on climbing the stairs.

“You have no idea how many STDs I’ve seen come from this place. I’d rather have only one infected limb, thank you very much.”

All Stephen got as a reply was a snort and more stair climbing. Much to his relief, Tony stepped off at the third floor and started walking down the hall. Then again, Tony might just be leading him to another staircase just to throw Stephen off. The crowd was thinner on the third floor, but there were still eyewitnesses to rely upon. Even more so when Tony turned to a specific doorway. Looking up, Stephen read a sign saying ‘To Dye For’ hanging over the doorway. All he hoped was that the spelling was purposeful.

“Amelie, darling!” Tony exclaimed inside the store, veering off and approaching a woman. “How have you been?”

The woman, who had been sweeping the tile floor of the store, looked up and blinked. Then a smile spread onto her face. “Work’s been good, didn’t think I’d see you back so soon. Did you want to switch it up?”

“Trim’s not for me,” Tony answered, motioning back towards Stephen, who was much too intrigued by the almost gothic decor of the store. “Amelie, meet Doc. Doc, Amelie. He needs a good make-over. You get free reign, only thing I ask is that you keep those silver streaks of his in good order.”

“Wait-” Stephen squeaked, jerking his head up. The woman was staring at him, head tilted and eyes narrowed, as if she was cycling through possibilities for him. “I-I don’t need this, Christine always-”

“Well Christine isn’t here, is she? You’ll feel better, trust me. Look good, feel good.” Tony’s grin widened as he stepped closer to Stephen, motioning towards a chair sitting not far away. “Trust me, she’s the best. Been going to her ever since I got here. Sometimes it takes a little help to look this good.”

Or maybe he turned around right now and went straight home. Straight back to the hospital because  _ all of this _ was a bad idea. Sure, he could see where Tony was coming from, maybe. Giving the poor cripple doctor a make-over and assume that it would solve everything. Or give the cripple a make-over  _ then _ sell him to the highest bidder for his medical knowledge. Sell him to the merchants of death to create better weapons, more destructive weapons.

“Hey,” Tony quickly said, his voice pulling Stephen back into the present. He needed to stay focused. Somehow. Stephen swallowed and Tony continued. “Trust me, okay? I wouldn’t steer you wrong. Do this for me, and I’ll buy you whatever you want in the market.”

He wasn’t a child, was Stephen’s first reaction, practically bristling where he stood. He couldn’t be bought that easily. But for a moment, his thoughts flicked to a particular stall, with those particular items and… 

Sucking in a deep breath, Stephen straightened himself and walked to the chair. He sank down onto the chair and carefully leaned back. Just let it happen, he told himself. Closing his eyes, he tried to not flinch as he felt some blanket being draped over his body, presumably to keep the hair from getting all over his clothes.

“Wait,” Stephen jolted, opening his eyes and glancing back to Tony. “What were you saying about my ‘streaks?’ What’s that-”

“Anyway, don’t worry about price, darling, you do what you want, he is your blank canvas,” Tony quickly said, waving off Stephen’s comment. “No coloring, though. Not this time.”

“Damn, I was thinking he’d look great in silver,” Amelie whined behind him, “Dark roots, silver tips?”

“Next time.”

“Do I ever get a say in this?” Stephen groaned, trying and failing to relax in the chair. Had he been warned about this happening, maybe he could have prepared himself for being touched, but his nerves were already prepared to snap at any second. Just relax, he told himself. She wasn’t going to hurt him. Just cut. She doesn’t have to touch. Don’t touch. Don’t-

Thin fingers carefully ran up the base of his skull, and it took everything Stephen had to not instantly melt or let out a noise of pleasure. That… felt good. He forgot how good that felt. His eyes fluttered closed again and it surprised even himself how soon he gave up control. All he did was focus on the rhythmic sensation of her fingers, of a comb running through the strands of his hair, stroking carefully, smoothly…

There was idle chatter in the background, with Amelie probably understanding that Stephen was in no place for conversation. He idly listened to their voices, but focused on the snipping of scissors and the slow loss of weight on his head. His hair had been getting dangerously close to touching his shoulders, but it felt like she was taking a lot off… And then he heard the sound of an electric razor… What exactly was she doing?

“She’s doing great,” Tony chimed in, sensing Stephen’s unease. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she doesn’t screw up your pretty locks.”

Stephen huffed, but then was told to lean his head forward by the woman. He hesitated, then obeyed. He could feel the guards of the razor running against the back of his head, and more hair falling away. In his head, Stephen was wondering if she was shaving him down for a reason. But Tony was trusting her. That had to mean something.

Minutes ticked past, more hair trimmed and cut away, and Stephen wondered just how long this would take. What time did they leave? He hadn’t the foggiest idea, and his watch was in his pocket, trapped beneath the blanket like the rest of him. The tools were put aside, and he felt her fingers running through his hair again, this time starting to work his hair into shape. He idly wondered just what she was sticking into his hair, then decided that he was better off not knowing. 

Then the fingers pulled away. “I think I’m done,” Amelie chirped, grabbing the blanket and carefully pulling it off and shaking off the hair.

“Holy shit, I knew you were good, but you’re a  _ goddess,” _ Tony whistled beside him, prompting Stephen to open his eyes. Tony was circling his chair, looking at him from all angles, then stopped in front of Stephen. His smile was softer, eyes constantly darting between Stephen’s face and his hair, before he blinked. “Oh, hold up,” Tony said, reaching over Stephen’s shoulder and grabbing a mirror from Amelie. “Here. Take a look.”

Stephen blinked, taking the hand mirror from Tony’s grasp. His first thought was that the glass was cracked through the middle, awkwardly fracturing his image. Only when he tried to wrap his mind around the warping did he actually  _ see. _

For a second, a split second, Stephen wasn’t in that chair in a destroyed post-war civilization. He was in his expensive flat, staring into a mirror, preparing himself for another gala or event. On the top of the world. Maybe about to present his brilliant procedure to the world. His sleek black suit, hands carefully adjusting the tie around his neck, seeing the glint of his expensive watch on his wrist.

Back when he was Doctor Stephen Strange. Regarded as one of- no,  _ the _ best.

...But who was he now?

Trembling scarred fingers stroked the silvering hair, the mirror reflecting back the horrid scars. Pricks of pain ran down his fingers at the softest touch, tearing him out of the past. He wasn’t that doctor any more.

No matter what they did, what they fixed, how clean or well fed he became, he still wasn’t that doctor. He would never be again.

What was he?

The image in the mirror started to blur, his hand tight around the handle. Why couldn’t he go back to feeling nothing? Why? He should be happy. Proud. But he couldn’t.

The mirror cracked as it fell from his hand, fracturing the image that wouldn’t go away. What was he? A victim. A civilian. Someone who had no reason. No purpose. He was nothing. He will never be that man in the mirror again.

The words echoed through his mind as he buried his face into his hands, and the first sob broke free. He could feel it. Feel the rough scars against his skin, the pits and holes, the pinpricks turning into the burn, the heat against his skin of the fire… But as the sobs rushed out one after the other, he felt the arms pull him close to warmth. Warm hands, warm voice, warm arms, warm body.

Warm.

It wasn’t the burn.

A gentle, soothing warmth.

A warmth he hadn’t felt in so long.

* * *

The rest of their outing blurred together. It was consumed by Tony throwing him clothes from every direction, dressing, redressing, and redressing again. It felt more like he was a doll being played with than anything else, dressed to Tony’s liking, but he couldn’t find it within himself to complain.

Maybe it was that little bit of warmth that was lodged somewhere in his chest. Who knows.

It was while Tony was all but pulling him in another direction of the marketplace that Stephen almost stumbled to a stop. There they were. Still there. Waiting for him.

“See something?” Tony asked, his voice almost faded into the distance.

Stephen nodded.

“Point it out, and it’s yours.”

Trying to articulate through the fog in his head was impossible, so he did just that. And he watched as the shopkeeper reach up and take them off their shelf, where they had been sitting for so very long, and finally,  _ finally,  _ they were in his hands.

He didn’t hear the shopkeeper and Tony talking in the background. He didn’t need to. His fingers stroked across the fragile surface, and for once, they didn’t burn from his touch. There was no thought of burning. They were too precious to burn.

Tony called his name again, and Stephen jolted back to attention. “Coming,” he rasped, and with careful movements, Stephen folded the orange Japanese fans closed and tucked them into his bag, then turned and followed Tony back into the crowd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been reading, either since the beginning or finding it recently, we adore everyone who gives our fic even a moment of their time <3 We should hopefully have updates coming more frequently now!


	22. Return to Where We Began

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Friday. They're in the Central District, and it's Friday, and it's time for another meeting. For once, Stephen wished he could just lose his mind again.

The trip to the market took much longer than it should have. That was the only thought Stephen could hang onto at the moment, the rest of him being drained out and running on empty.

Tony had insisted that they explore every inch of the market and the Cielo, thankfully not the top three floors at least, and in the process, splurged far too many ration cards. At least that was how Stephen saw it. Tony, on the other hand, assured Stephen that this was nothing more than a small dent in what he had acquired.

_ “Let me spoil you,” _ Tony had insisted. By the third pointless transaction, Stephen simply gave up and let Tony buy him whatever he liked. That included, but was not limited to; different types of gloves, some books, a sketchbook, more clothes, a ridiculously large bag of grapes, a stack of DVDs, and far too many other things. He couldn’t even remember all the items, even as he had the bags hauled over his shoulder.

Tony was walking beside him, his battery bag held to his chest while he also had a couple bags hanging off his arms. “We’ll unpack all this shit and I’ll see if I can get the DVD player working. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find some porn,” Tony grinned back at him, a glint in his eyes.

“I doubt that there would be random pornography. Not just in a random stack of movies. I’m sure there is a decent market for them alone,” Stephen rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the looming thought that it had been a  _ long _ time since he had experienced…  _ any _ sexual intercourse. Being in the hospital, it was far too crowded. Every room had someone inside it doing something important.

That didn’t stop random civilians from their own activities, of course not. It would be too much to expect decency towards the people who owned the  _ roof over their head. _

There had been opportunities, of course. People expecting special treatment for  _ favors _ to the hardworking doctors. There had been times where Stephen had been tempted, but held his ground.

Watching pornography, though? Stephen wouldn’t…  _ deny _ the opportunity. Even if that meant he had to sit next to Tony who was watching the same porn. God, it sounded like his college days all over again.

“I’ll have to figure out where we’re putting all this, though. Might have to toss out some projects. Sell a few toasters.”

“I did notice an abundance of toasters,” Stephen mused. “Does anyone even buy them from you any longer?”

“Not really, but doesn’t hurt to try.”

Stephen chuckled. Of all the things that had happened today, the constant ups and downs, today was… a good day. It was strange to think that he may have even enjoyed himself. When was the last time that had happened that wasn’t because of a supply drop day? Or just by the fact that there had not been a sudden influx of injured civilians?

Reaching up, Stephen idly toyed with his facial hair, running his fingers across it. Of course, most of his face felt irritated by the sudden shaving of the overgrowth, but that came with having not shaved for at least two months, if not longer. His hair, though… When was the last time he had it cut? It felt much lighter. Did it always feel this light? Stephen mused to himself as he let his gaze wander around them. Huh. He wasn’t sure he recognized...

Wait.

Stephen blinked and slowed down. “This wasn’t the way we came,” Stephen muttered, his eyes scanning the buildings that surrounded them. The way they came had been a generally well-traveled road, clear of most debris except for some general landmarks of wreckage. This… They were walking through alleys, walking through yards of destroyed homes. This wasn’t the way they came. Where were they going?

“Shortcut,” Tony said without looking back, still walking at the same pace. “I mean, we want to get home before it starts getting dark, right? Winter’s coming and all that, starting to get darker earlier, all that shit.”

“The main road is the fastest way.” Stephen stopped entirely, his mind already starting to spin. Where were they? They hadn’t reached any of the district borders at least, meaning they weren’t going directly to No Man’s Land. If Tony intended to sell him back to the Cielo or the merchants of death, then he would have done so at the marketplace itself. No, Tony was taking him somewhere specific, and he had been waiting for a precise moment to do it…

Wasting time at the marketplace, constantly looking at his watch, distracting Stephen with anything and everything he could… Practically gift wrapping him everything he could ever wanted. Warming him up for… Something.

“What day is it, Tony?”

That stopped Tony in his tracks. “Uh… What day do you think it is? Did you lose time?” Tony asked slowly, finally turning back and facing Stephen. He couldn’t help but notice that Tony would not look him in the eye. Stephen’s blood ran cold.

No, he knew what day it was. And he knew the time. He’d been checking it almost as often as Tony had.

“It’s… You’re taking me  _ there.” _

“Where?” Tony had the gall to act confused and innocent, furrowing his brow and tilting his head to the side. “I’m not taking you anywhere.”

“It’s  _ Friday.” _

Tony blinked, and there was a flash of something across his face that he couldn’t quite hide. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Friday. Yesterday was Thursday. Tomorrow will be Saturday. And after that it’ll be-”

“It’s Friday, it’s just after six, and you’re taking me to the  _ fucking therapy group!” _

No, he wasn’t going to go. Nope. He refused. Stephen’s heart sped up in his chest, and all at once, the world narrowed to only that fact. This may not be the normal path he use to take to the group, but it was becoming clearer. Just two blocks away, that’s where the building was. Where everyone would be waiting.

All those people who witnessed him losing his mind would be sitting there and waiting to see if he would dare show his face again. Well, he wasn’t. He had already been humiliated enough by whatever he had done at the hospital. He did not need a group of  _ strangers _ who didn’t know him to judge him only for his insanity. They didn’t know. They  _ wouldn’t _ know. All Stephen would become to them was a story to tell about the insane doctor who disappeared after losing his mind.

“Hey, stay with me, Doc,” Tony’s voice cut through, louder and closer. “Everything’s fine. You’re in the Central Dist-”

“I know where I am!” Stephen snapped, meeting Tony’s eyes with a fierce glare. “You’re not taking me back there! I have no reason to go back, they can’t help me! I’ll be nothing but a laughing stock of the group, I’m not going back!”

Tony flinched and stepped back, already holding his hands out to show that he was unarmed. It only lit the fire deep in Stephen’s gut. He wasn’t a wild animal, he wasn’t going to  _ attack. _

“Give it one more shot,” Tony said softly, finally meeting Stephen’s gaze again. “One more try.”

“No,” Stephen hissed. He spun around and stalked down the alley again. “No, I’m going home. I’m done. I-”

“You can’t go home.”

“Like hell I can’t, watch me.”

“No, you  _ can’t.” _

“And why can’t I?” Stephen snapped back again, glaring over his shoulder, but what he saw made him stiffen up.

Tony held up his phone with one hand, that little flip phone that so many people would kill to obtain. He never broke Stephen’s gaze, but the softness had disappeared, leaving a cold edge. “Because  _ they _ won’t let you.”

They?

Stephen’s throat went dry, the hairs on the back of his neck already standing on end. What had Tony done? Possibilities were already spinning. Had he contacted his military friends? The guards? Would Tony really hold him against his will for  _ this? _

“I called the hospital earlier. You’re not going home. Even if you walk away right now, they won’t let you inside.” Tony paused, his eyes sharp and focused on Stephen’s paling expression. “Call it an intervention, call it bullshit, call it whatever you want, but you’re staying with me until we can figure out how to get you back on your feet proper.”

The silence that followed was felt by both of them, and Stephen wondered what he wanted to do more; run, scream, or just… want to disappear.

He really was a child, now. Being dragged around by whoever was unfortunate enough to have a hold of his leash. The men and women he worked with for the past four years didn’t want him. They were passing him off to a near stranger. So… what option did he really have?

Like a flip of a switch, Tony’s hard expression melted into one of concern. Stephen could almost believe it was genuine. “They’re doing this because they care about you. I know this isn’t what you signed up for, but we’re trying to help you. This is for the best-”

“For the best of whom?” Stephen snapped back, even when he knew there was no heat in his words. “For the hospital to have one less patient to deal with? For you to feel better about yourself in comparison?”

“Hey, I’m just trying-” Tony cut himself off, biting into his bottom lip to hold back the words that must have been  _ begging _ to be spilled out. About how much he hated being Stephen’s string of sanity, probably. How he wanted to pawn Stephen off to the nearest person. How thankless Stephen was being.

Tony took a long breath and let it out in a rush. “Fine, here, do you want to call them? I’m telling you what they told me. But if you need to hear it for yourself…” Trailing off, Tony held out the hand holding the phone. Stephen didn’t move. Just stared down at the little black box in his hand.

Of course Tony wouldn’t be lying. Stephen must have put them to their breaking point much faster than he had thought. Calling would only cement it into his mind that the others were giving up on him. So the option of running was gone. Perhaps he could stand here and argue longer. What did he have to say, though?   
Stephen was tired. Today had already been long, and his mind was doing its best to work as little as possible.

“Next session,” Stephen bargained, but Tony just shook his head. “I’d rather have time to work through this than be put up for display, one week is all I ask.”

“I can’t do that, Doc. You need help, and you’re just going to find another excuse. We have to rip off the bandage now while we still can.”

That made absolutely no sense, but Stephen unfortunately could still understand the sentiment behind it. Use the moment of clarity, because who knows how long it will be before Stephen breaks down again. There was always the very slim possibility that the worst was already behind him, but…

Stephen knew better. He also knew that it would only be two and a half hours of humiliation. He’d faired worse.

He didn’t have to say anything, all he did was adjust the bags over his shoulders and start walking again. While Stephen wished that they could at least drop off the things, he had a suspicion that Tony had wasted just enough time to make sure there wouldn’t be a chance to take a trip to the North District and back, just in case Stephen found some excuse to stay.

Tony seemed hesitant, probably waiting for Stephen to attack back or argue more. All Stephen did was jerk his head to the path ahead. They needed to get going. “I’ll be with you the whole time,” Tony promised. “We’ll go straight home after and I’ll make you whatever you want for dinner. Get you some more tea, everything.”

His offer was met with silence, and they started walking again. Stephen only stared ahead, watching as the buildings became more and more familiar, then spotting the road he would normally take to the meeting. One last chance for him to make a break for it, drop the shit and start running… Tony wouldn’t be able to catch up to him while carrying the battery. If he just ran home, then he didn’t have to face this humiliation.

But all he had to do was look ahead to the building and he knew his chance was gone. There were other people already. Even in the fading light of the setting sun, Stephen still recognized them.

Thor and Bruce. Of course. They had still been looking the opposite direction, probably waiting for Tony, right until Stephen considered running again.

Bruce turned back to their direction, then noticeably jerked and grab onto Thor’s arm. It took all Stephen had to not turn around and run anyway. He had already been seen. The damage was only just beginning and would only get worse if he ran. So he sucked in a breath and tried to hold his head up high.

It didn’t work. Not as he felt the tightness in his chest the closer they came to the building.

“Easy, they’re still friends,” Tony muttered beside him, casting his gaze to Stephen for just a heartbeat. “They’re not going to hurt you. They’re just worried about you.”

For now.

Thor was the first to make a move, stepping past Bruce and meeting them halfway. He was smiling fondly, arms open wide. “Man of Iron! Doctor! It’s great to see you two, again, and looking well!” Thor’s eyes focused onto Stephen, and the other man was making an effort to keep his eyes on his face and not down to his bandaged arm. “You look  _ much _ better, Doctor. Very happy to see you return to us.”

In more ways than one.

All Stephen could muster up was a nod, until Thor started walking closer. Too close. His arms were still extended wide, and with a cold shudder, Stephen realized he was about to pull him in for a hug, for whatever reason. His heart lurched up into his throat, and just as he took a step back and started searching for some escape, Tony stepped between them.

It was almost seamless, how Tony diverted Thor’s attention away from Stephen and towards himself. Tony reached out and clapped Thor on the shoulder. “Glad to see you, too, Lebowski. How’s it been going?”

But Thor wasn’t fooled, Stephen  _ wished _ he had been easy to fool. That smile faded and the other man glanced between Stephen and Tony, and he almost seemed  _ hurt _ by the denial. “I do not understand, he had been much more accepting last session,” he murmured, his deep voice almost a rumble of distant thunder. “Granted his mental state had not been-”

“We’re not talking about what happened,” Tony hushed, his voice soft and urgent. “Not now.”

“But-”

“Hey, Brucie Goosie!” Tony called out, already bypassing Thor and walking the rest of the way to the building. “How’s it been going?”

The conversation was too far away for Stephen to understand, but judging by how Tony dropped the tone of his voice almost immediately, he had a hunch that it was purposeful. What else had he done that Tony had to start warning everyone about?

Stephen’s left hand wrapped around his right wrist, rubbing against the bandages that were starting to loosen again. He had been constantly pulling and tugging on them at the marketplace out of nervousness, and now he was sure he’d end up tearing the strips before the night’s end. He glanced up to Thor, who still had his arms slightly out, until they were suddenly dropped with realization.

“My apologies, I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable, Doctor,” Thor said, his expression soft and wistful. “You are my friend, and I wish for you to be in the best mental state possible.”

“I’m better than where I was,” Stephen replied, uncertain to where this conversation was going. He’d never been very close to Thor, only talking to him mostly by the third session when they had been working in groups. Whatever he had done the last session, Thor had played a major role. “I… apologize for any trouble I may have caused. I’m not very aware of what I had done exactly.”

Realization flashed through Thor’s expression, and he nodded. “I am just glad to see you again, and looking  _ much _ better.” Thor paused, his eyes scanning over Stephen one more time. Probably trying to find any attempt at a conversation that didn’t lead them back to whatever he did or did not do last week. “I quite like the changes to your hair.”

“Oh. Yes. Thank you.” Could this get anymore awkward? No, don’t answer that, Stephen didn’t want to know.

Taking a glance over his shoulder, Thor finally dropped his arms and motioned towards the building. “Shall we? There is still time for the others to join us. You are not the last ones.”

Stephen wasn’t sure if he was supposed to find comfort in that or not, but he wouldn’t have a choice in changing it unless he wanted to stand outside for ten or fifteen minutes and wait for everyone else to enter the meeting. Nodding, Stephen once again adjusted the bag straps on his shoulders and followed Thor to the front doors.

By this point, Tony and Bruce had finished whatever conversation they were having, and while Tony turned around and greeted them with a smile, Bruce was slinking inside the building. Great, so Stephen must have done something to offend Bruce in some way. Good to know that one of the very few people he even remembered the names of already couldn’t stand him. Holding back a remark, the three soon followed Bruce inside.

There was an odd mixture of emotions that washed over Stephen when he stepped back inside that familiar room. There was the familiar coffee sitting on the table, though the name tags were not present. The circle of chairs was still right in the center of the room, and Stephen recognized Fury sitting at the usual head of the circle. While he saw shock flicker over the other man’s expression, it smoothed out to its normal mask moments later.

“Glad to see you back, Strange,” Fury greeted with a nod. Stephen nodded back, words failing him. He had a feeling he was going to have that phrase repeated to him at least five or six more times tonight.

Tony had already picked up his cup of coffee and claimed his usual seat, with Bruce nervously shifting in his own chair. With very few options, Stephen claimed his own cup off the table and glanced down into the cup. The liquid was darker, smelled a little stronger, so perhaps whatever stock Fury was getting was refreshed. He hoped Fury wasn’t having to waste his own cards on this shitty coffee and their group supplies.

Stifling back a sigh, Stephen took his seat right next to Tony. He had half a mind to pick a different seat just so he wouldn’t give Tony that satisfaction of having him here at all, but being honest with himself, it would do more harm than good. He had some assemblences of a support group, best not to mess it up.

Glancing back down to his cup, Stephen debated on if he really wanted to drink it or not. Back in his days as a neurosurgeon, coffee had been a daily lifesaver. Now… It may be better if he quit and never go back. Adjusting his grasp on the cup with his left hand, Stephen leaned over to set the cup in front of Tony’s seat.

“No!”

Tony’s should almost made Stephen drop the cup, snapping back and staring up at the other man. His face had gone pale, his jaw clenched tight, and Stephen could practically  _ hear _ his pounding heart. “I-I mean, no, just…” Tony stammered, his gaze flashing around the room to the others that had been just as startled.

Now maybe Stephen had to worry about Tony’s sanity instead of his own.

“Just hand it to me.” Tony stretched out his arm, finally able to meet Stephen’s eyes again. When nothing happened, he cleared his throat. “Please,” he added in a softer voice.

Questions raced through his head, but none could be forced through his lips. Looking back to the cup in his hand, Stephen tried to contain the prickles racing up his spine. No, he was safe here. He wasn’t going to hurt Tony. He wasn’t going to burn him. The words repeated over and over as he finally held out the cup, holding it just by the tips of his fingers.

As soon as Stephen held it out, Tony was quick to take it from his grasp, probably to prevent it spilling. “Thank you,” Tony sighed out in relief, already putting the cup to his lips and drinking it down feverishly.

The exchange was enough of a distraction that by the time Stephen leaned back into his chair proper, he almost jumped at the amount of people in the room.

Alright, now he just had to remember their names… And not the nicknames Tony had given everyone.

The circle was much smaller, that was the first thing he noticed. There were now only nine chairs than the original twelve they began with. Two were still empty. How could he have not noticed that people had stopped coming? Or maybe…

“They left because of me,” Stephen murmured, mostly to himself. Five people. They had lost five people because of… whatever he had done.

Tony shook his head. “Nah, three guys stopped coming after session two, and the last two have been off and on the entire time. Damn shame, too, I had the perfect nicknames picked out for those two if they ever show their asses up again.”

“What genius names have you decided for them?” Stephen asked, already feeling his eyes beginning to roll unconsciously.

“Capsicle for the big one, he was some sort of high ranking soldier, and Terminator, for- well, obvious reasons.”

“Obvious reasons?”

“The dude had a metal arm, how could you miss that?”

How  _ could _ he miss that? Well, Stephen had certainly not been the best audience member. Shaking his head, he glanced to the occupied seats.

They were down to seven people in total. Fury, Thor, Bruce, himself, Tony, and… two women. Of course he remembered the idiotic nicknames Tony gave them rather than  _ actual _ names. Little Witch and… Queen of Hearts. That would have to do until Stephen could nail down their actual names.

Why he was caring about all of this now was beyond him. Stephen still wasn’t guaranteeing that he’d continue coming to the meeting after this.

The two women had given him quick glances, but were soon talking to each other. At least they were respectful, or just wary enough, to not pry into his thoughts. That was for Fury to do, as he cleared his throat to bring the attention back to himself.

“Alright, we’re starting today’s session a little differently. We’re going to start with recounting one of the better things that happened to each of you since our last session.”

Oh no. The fact that Stephen’s mind went completely blank was not a good start. Something  _ good _ that happened?

“Wanda, would you like to begin?” Fury motioned towards one of the women, one that Stephen remembered was nicknamed ‘Little Witch.’ That was one name down.

Stephen was surprised by how quickly the woman straightened, and took only a couple seconds to think before speaking. “Victor and I had some time to ourselves between reconstructing the house. We actually made a dinner for ourselves for the first time in months, something that wasn’t more than tossing things onto a plate.”

“Regaining a sense of normalcy, good,” Fury praised. “Everything counts in this world. Even having a schedule of something like meals and daily chores will help bring order.”

The next woman, one who had darker red hair than Wanda, was a little more hesitant to speak. Her eyes were still scanning over each of the other members, her face neutral. “It isn’t the best, but I had… gone to the market a few days ago to purchase food. I completed my list and went back home without incident.”

While Stephen was confused on just exactly what that meant, Thor chimed in. “Not something to be scoffed at, Natasha. You’re improving.”

“Exactly,” Fury agreed, nodding. “Are the exercises helping at all?”

Natasha’s posture remained still, her face neutral, but for just a second, there was a light in her eyes before that was contained as well. “Actually, yes. Focusing on my own body movements helps take my mind off of what everyone else is doing around me. Helps center my thoughts.”

“How about Legolas, any chance on him coming back yet?” Tony asked, giving yet another name that Stephen didn’t recognize. It almost felt like he… didn’t know this group at all. How much had he missed? How many  _ people _ did he miss?

The corner of Natasha’s lip twitched. “No.” Her response was short and firm, obviously hiding a story behind it.

Stephen frowned as he studied her expression, only for her eyes to meet his without so much of a flinch. What did she want from him? He couldn’t have  _ already _ missed a crucial detail, could he? Though as he glanced around the circle, cold realization washed over him.

He was next.

“Take your time,” Fury smoothly said, though it only made the rest of his body go cold. They were going to make him answer, weren’t they? What could he possibly say?

He spent a majority of those days in a catatonic state. The rest of the time was bouncing back and forth between mental breakdowns. He had at least  _ three _ this day alone, and as his heart hammered up his throat, he was sure he was about to have number four in just a few seconds.

“I-I… uh…”

“You got hot.”

The answer was so quick and so matter-of-fact that Stephen couldn’t help but stare back at Wanda. She was grinning back at him, leaning back into her chair, the picture of ease.

“I think Victor might have something to say about that comment,” Natasha teased, her expression suddenly softening. “You’re going to make him jealous.”

“I think he’d agree with me,” Wanda grinned back

“I would as well."

All eyes snapped to Thor, who only furrowed his brow in response. “I can appreciate a handsome man the same as any woman can. It is admiration.”

A strained laugh was all that came from Stephen at first, and he sank down into his wooden seat. His face had to be bright red with embarrassment, if it hadn’t already. “Thank… you?” he tried to speak, but barely heard past his own pounding heart. Perhaps this would be enough to bypass his ‘story,’ and at first, it seemed to work as Tony was quick to start speaking.

“I got to get my hands dirty this week. Worked on some machines and got them up and running. First time in awhile I got to work on something big that wasn’t just stoves and toasters.” Tony’s smile was wide, though Stephen noticed his hands were playing with the cords attached to the battery. He must be choosing his words carefully to not give away the fact that he was at the hospital.

Tony had only worked on the machines to help pass the time while Stephen had been out of his mind.

“Getting back into work, always a good thing,” Fury hummed, then glanced to Bruce. “And how about you?”

Bruce was more hesitant than the rest, biting onto his bottom lip as he struggled for something to say. “I, uh, had invited a few acquaintances to my apartment. Helped fill up a little bit of space, and it was nice to have other people around.”

“Hey, same here!” Tony grinned again, pointing his thumb back at Stephen. “I got the Doc to come hang out with me for a little while. Maybe we’ll come over and bother you, just like old times.”

A flush crossed Bruce’s face and he noticeably fidgeted. But Stephen was only just catching onto the last few words of Tony’s sentence. He had a feeling that Tony and Bruce knew each other before the group meetings, but… Stephen had assumed it was because they had been in meetings together.

“You live… up there, too?” Stephen breathed, already feeling shivers crawl through his skin. No, calm down. Tony may live in the North District, but that didn’t mean Bruce did, too. Plus, neither had come forth and said which District they were from. Hell, none of them did. There were… unstated prejudices to where a person came from. If Bruce came from the North District…

But Bruce didn’t respond, acting like he didn’t hear Stephen at all. “Just give me warning this time, instead of just showing up, ‘just like old times.’”

“Hardass,” Tony scoffed, his fingers finally stilling on the cords.

“Thor?” Fury turned to the other man, motioning for him to speak. Out of all of them, Stephen had been sure that Thor had been the quietest, most reserved of the group, not counting himself. But even he wasn’t blind to the changes of the larger man.

Thor smiled, almost relieved that it was finally his turn. “I spent the last few days with family in another sector. I actually just returned home a few hours before coming here. I was able to share some of my progress, visit my brother, and it was quite delightful. I may start going back once a month. Reconnect and so on.”

“Nice!” Tony praised, leaning over on his chair and giving Thor a firm pat on the shoulder. “I bet Loki’s proud of you.”

“Excellent,” Fury rumbled, nodding his head to Thor, then raising his head to glance to everyone in the room. That is, until he managed to catch Stephen’s eyes. Even as Stephen flinched his gaze away, he could still feel Fury’s calm gaze. “Stephen, you still haven’t given us your highlight of the week. You’ve had some time to think about it, and what have you decided?”

If there was a way for Stephen to disappear into the floor, he would have at that very moment. He could feel everyone’s gaze turned to him, waiting, expecting him to speak. But what did he have to say? “I-I don’t… know,” he said, unable to pull his eyes off the floor. His left hand was already attacking the wraps on his right, tugging and pulling.

“What’s the first thing that comes to mind? Something that you had this week that you can’t say you had last week?”

His sanity? A grasp on reality? His thoughts dragged him down without mercy, taunting him. He had Tao last week. Had some pride in himself, however little it was.

“Think in terms of small things. The bigger issues might still be there, but small good things in between.”

The bigger issues wouldn’t be chased away, but… There were small things.

“I had a…” God, he couldn’t believe he was saying this. “A hot shower, a warm meal, and a place to sleep.” Pathetic. Everyone else in this room probably experienced those things daily. And yet they were his only accomplishments.

“So you had a chance to take care of yourself, take care of your body, and let yourself relax. There’s no shame in that. And there’s no shame in feeling good about having good things.”

“God, it feels like it’s been  _ years _ since I got a nice hot shower.” Wanda’s voice spoke up, successfully pulling the attention away from Stephen.

“What’s a shower?” Natasha snorted in response. 

A rumble of chuckles came through the circle. Looking at Tony from the corner of his eyes, Stephen’s heart sank. Of course, Tony wouldn’t comment, just awkwardly chuckling along with the group. He was the one who had been enjoying showers for however long he had been in the North District. Saying that aloud may get him some enemies.

“Alright,” Fury finally said, standing up and making his way out of the circle. “We’re going to do an activity to help us reset.” He walked across the room and headed to the table, where there was a box tucked beneath. “We’re going to do a drawing exercise.”

Stephen’s heart sank further. Of course. Something he would not be able to work on.

Fury returned with an armful of random strips of cardboard and slips of paper, handing them to each person. They were also handed a random writing utensil. It was almost funny, how each of them was handed something different. Stephen received a pen that had some old forgotten business written on the side, Tony had a pen with what looked like a rubber duck pattern, and Bruce was handed a comically large pencil, one that at some point in time may have been a gag gift but now was being squabbled over between Tony and Bruce.

Stephen had been in the middle of trying to adjust the cardboard sheet to rest his right hand under, in some attempt to see if he could write with it at all, when Fury spoke again.

“We’re going to reset by drawing with our non dominant hand. This will take more focus and will allow you to let go of other worries as you do so.”

Finally, something Stephen could do without feeling like a complete idiot. Because as he looked up and saw everyone else struggling to hold their writing utensil in their other hand, he couldn’t help but smile. 

They were at least all complete idiots together.

The room quieted down, other than the bickering between Tony and Bruce still fighting over the large pencil, and Stephen lost himself to the sound of scribbles. It was beginning to feel, while not natural, less  _ unnatural _ to hold the pen in his right hand. He let his hand run across the page, making random lines and circles, trying to connect the patterns to whatever he saw.

There were times where Fury would get up and walk around the group, sometimes helping them grip the pencil better, but he always watched Stephen from afar. That is until Stephen had just started to lose himself into the shapes and lines, the rhythm of his hand moving across the page.

“Are we unwinding?” Fury asked, with most giving some affirmative response. “Good. Now, Stephen.”

Blinking, Stephen raised his head and glanced back at Fury. What? Fury met his gaze as calm and collected as always, which was the exact opposite of what he felt once the next words left his lips.

“I’d like you to walk us through what happened last week.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who want a little treat for the series, check back to chapter one and chapter seven for some beautiful art created by TheDanielHD <3 His links will be at the bottom of each of those chapters to see his other amazing works.


	23. Don't Hold Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before Stephen can heal, he must open the wound one last time. Perhaps this time, he can bind it properly, but he will need the help of his group to guide him. And for once, Stephen is in good hands.

No. No, no, no, he wasn’t, he wouldn’t, he  _ couldn’t- _

Stephen’s heart lodged itself deep in his throat, and for a split second, he feared he would vomit it up. He could feel his rushing blood, thundering heart, the cold sweat already dampening his skin, his lungs tightening, squeezing out the air, the oxygen-

“That is, if you’re ready to-”

“I’m not,” Stephen croaked, barely able to hold Fury’s gaze.

Fury’s expression was still calm, which alone made shivers coarse through his veins. “When you are ready and willing to talk about it, then we will talk. I only bring it up now to give you time to decide.”

“I-I don’t want to-”

“And we will not force you.” Even when Stephen was sure he should be comforted by the words, Stephen couldn’t undo the knot in his throat that was blocking the air from his tight lungs. Fury’s eyes softened, if only barely. “Perhaps I should have chosen better wording."

_ “Perhaps?” _ Tony scowled beside him. “He’s not talking until he’s ready, and he damn well isn’t right now.”

Any other time, Stephen may have quieted Tony from defending him, as he never was one to not fight his own battles but he was already preoccupied with the battle in his head. Their words were already fading, drowning in the sound of his own rushing blood. Breathe, he told himself. Even if it was hard. Even if he wasn’t getting air. He still had to try.

But he couldn’t open up his lungs, couldn’t expand his throat, he felt stiff, nothing was going in, and he could feel the buzzing in the back of his skull, he needed  _ oxygen, _ he needed  _ air, _ he needed  _ space _ to  _ breathe. _

“Stephen.”

The firm voice sounded on his left, but he couldn’t turn his head, couldn’t look to see who it was.

“Look at the clock.”

Listen to the voice, he told himself, and his eyes flicked across the wall in search. Finally he found it, off center, having lost one of the nails to hold it in place long ago. He struggled to keep his eyes focused, instead following cracks on the wall, the torn wallpaper, the holes in the roof-

“Look at the second hand. Do you see it?”

Back to the clock. It was 7:15 right now. Maybe 14. Maybe 13. He couldn’t tell. But then the second-hand ticked past.

“Fill your lungs. Start with your stomach, then your chest, fill them as far as you can, then breathe out. Count them out loud.”

Okay. Stomach. His eyes latched onto the second-hand, and he started. “One, tw-” The second-hand was moving too slow. The breath rushed out before he could catch it.

“Keep going. Don’t stop even if you can’t fill up all the way.”

And so he tried again. It took several attempts, several sputtering seconds, before he filled his stomach and started on the lungs. Follow the ticking hand. Focus on the feeling of the air rasping in his throat. Expanding. He didn’t realize he had stopped counting until each breath was taking about five seconds in, four seconds out.

“You’re back,” Tony’s voice said on his right, soft and careful.

Blinking, Stephen finally looked at the clock proper. 7:17. He hadn’t been gone for long. Good. Maybe that was good. Or maybe it was bad. It was hard to tell. Finally tearing his eyes away from the clock, Stephen looked to his left.

Natasha was still sitting beside him, her expression calm and composed. “It’s helped me in the past. Only fair to pass it along,” she said, and without waiting for an answer, she was already out of her chair and walking out of the room. Stephen couldn’t even muster a thank you before she stepped out the door.

“It was time for our break anyway,” Tony said, his chair creaking as he shifted. “They wanted to give you some time to think it out.”

Think what out? Think out the idea of unmasking his very personal trials that led him to the brink of insanity?

“Fury said that if you talk about it now, it will be fresher in your head and you can start the healing process right away. While the wound’s fresh. You know, if you don’t take care of a wound right away, it heals slower.” Tony paused, then added. “Also he said that the less you talk, the longer you’ll be here. I don’t know if that helps or anything, I actually don’t know how long we’re going to do this meeting-”

“Please stop talking,” Stephen breathed, closing his eyes and pressing his hands against his face. He just needed a moment to… center. The thought of going outside and getting some fresh air lingered, but his legs felt limp and useless. He was still light-headed, thoughts swimming through his mind like maggots trying to burrow.

Now that his attack was out of the way, maybe now he could think?

Stephen’s first thought was that he absolutely would not say a word about what happened last week, if just to defend whatever little pride was left. His second thought was that he had no pride left to defend, and that there was no reason to keep hiding. Chances were that everyone had witnessed the worst of his attack, so… The more his head cleared, the more he wondered if talking about it may be the only option he had.

He certainly didn’t want to, but… Would it actually help?

Tony had thankfully fallen silent at this point, if just to avoid being snapped at by Stephen. Probably for the best, because Stephen was only here because Tony had forced him. At least Fury was giving him a choice on something,  _ anything. _

Even if the choice is boiled down to; talk now, or drag it out. If there was a chance of this helping, then he needed to take it.

“...What do you want me to say?” Stephen finally asked, raising his head and looking back at Fury. He was still sitting in his chair, arms crossed over his chest.

“Anything you are comfortable with sharing. Nothing more. You can tell us about what led to it, what you experienced during it, how you recovered…” Fury paused, motioning to the now empty chairs of the circle. “You may be surprised by any potential feedback. We are all here to heal. Seeing you overcome your demons will help others pursue their own.”

Their demons. Stephen couldn’t help but think that each of their demons may be  _ far _ from similar.

“Take a few more minutes to think it over,” Fury said, finally standing up from his chair and walking to the door. “I’ll ask you once we begin the session again.”

The sound of closing doors was the only one in the room, with Stephen and Tony now alone. A long sigh slipped out, and Stephen buried his face back into his hands. Breathe, Stephen. You aren’t going to get  _ anywhere _ if you send yourself into another panic attack. Just breathe. Just breathe… He curled his arms around his chest and focused on his breaths again, filling his stomach, then his chest, and letting them back out.

“Grape?”

Stephen lifted his head just to see the singular grape held in front of him. Glancing to Tony, he saw Tony holding the bag of grapes in his lap, tucked behind the battery. He was popping what he assumed another grape into his mouth, grabbing them by the handful with his other hand. Just as Tony pulled out another handful, Stephen reached out with his left hand and plucked the bag out of his lap.

Without a word, Stephen placed the bag into his own lap, shielding it with his right arm, and started eating.

“Damn, Doc, if you want to grab at my crotch, just ask.”

Stephen didn’t dignify that with a response, just ate another grape.

By the time the others returned, Stephen had already eaten through almost half the bag, though that may be more from Tony’s eating than anything else. He had been plucking out the stems before he caught Wanda looking at the bag. Almost immediately, she glanced away, having been caught. Hesitating, Stephen looked back down into his bag. They were technically his to be easy to eat because of his hands… but…

Wordlessly, Stephen held out the bag to both her and Natasha. Wanda practically melted into her chair, reaching out and shaking out one of the strands of grapes. “Thank you,” she said, a smile growing on her face before she snapped the strand in half and passed the other half to Natasha.

With his good deed for the day done, Stephen put the bag back onto his lap and ate another grape. He couldn’t help but notice how Natasha did not eat the grapes until both he and Wanda ate at least one, but there was some part of Stephen that understood. Strangers did not willingly give away food unless there was something horribly wrong. So while strangers might not share without payment… therapy mates might be a different story.

Though the second Fury walked back into the room, Stephen found himself clutching the bag to his chest. Maybe he was rethinking this entire ‘healing’ thing. He could always do it next week. Right? Or the week after? Or the week after that?

But it was no use and he knew it. The first thing you had to do with a wound is to stop the bleeding. Then clean and bind the wound. The bleeding may be stopped for now, but was open and just  _ begging _ for infection.

He had to do it now.

“So, Stephen, have you decided?” Fury asked as he walked to his chair, being as nonchalant as possible on a topic so raw.

Swallowing, Stephen took another breath. “...Yeah. I guess…” He swallowed again. “I guess the easiest way is to just… start, right?”

“Exactly. The sooner you allow yourself to be open, the sooner you can start to heal. This will be a tremendous step, even considering opening up. But I’ll let you talk.” With that, Fury leaned back into his chair, and all eyes turned Stephen’s way.

And now he wanted nothing more than to hide in a nook in the wall. Was that normal? Probably. That didn’t make it any easier. His fingers twisted into the bag of grapes. Deep breath in, let it out. Deep breath in, let it out.

Deep breath in…

“I work at the hospital in the East District,” he started on the exhale, and he didn’t let himself stop. Just talk. “We’re more of a shelter than anything else, really. There’s only about… five certified doctors counting me, three self-taught medics, and the rest are civilians. The doctors, we’re part of a group that gets called out to other sectors or to the battlefields. We…” Blinking, Stephen gave himself a quick shake. “I guess that doesn’t really matter. What I’m saying is, the doctors there are like my family. I’ve been with them for four years.”

He paused, taking a moment to actually let himself look at the others. They were each trying to look at ease, some staring at the floor in some attempt to not make Stephen feel anxious under all their eyes. It didn’t help much. “I went through something… awful,” he started again, his left hand unconsciously curling around his right arm. “I’m not ready to talk about that part yet. But I guess I hadn’t come to terms with it. I don’t know, I wasn’t all together. I was drifting in and out, losing time, I think I did it here a few times, and they put me on bedrest.”

Another deep breath, this time shaking in his chest. Already, the images flashed through his mind. Bloody handprints, the knife on the ground, yellow soaked in red-

“W-we have a… policy about our supplies. We keep it in our sleeping room. And… Tao- Tao’s our leader of our group, she decides where we go, how long we stay, who we help, and she just wanted to help. And there were these… Kids. They kept coming because they’re orphans. She just wanted to help…” His words lodged into his throat. Tears were already burning, but he couldn’t let them fall. He had to keep talking. If he talked, he could keep away the images.

Images of her on the ground, of her slender fingers covered in blood, of screaming for help, of that oxygen bag, of-

“B-but they- I don’t know why- I-I…”

He wanted her scarf. Where was her scarf? His hand wrenched into his bandages, pulling and tearing. It wasn’t her scarf. Where was her scarf. He had to keep it safe. From the blood. All the blood. So much blood. His nails scratched at his skin. Sparks of pain.

He was in the room. He was staring at them. He could see the knife. He could see Tao. He could see the blood. Gushing blood. All on the tile floor. His hands felt sticky and hot. Covered in blood.

“I-It was my fault. I was in the room. I should have stopped them. But I didn’t. They wanted revenge. It should have been me. But they… She just wanted to help and they…”

Something soft was draped across his arms, and his left hand immediately snatched at it and held it to his chest. He barely had the time to recognize that Tony had taken the scarf out of his bag before he already had it knotted into his hands, twisting and tightening. Wipe away the blood.

“T-they stabbed her. And they left. And we operated. And…”

And then he faded. That was where the time stopped moving. It wasn’t like a blink, going from one moment to the next. It was like he had stepped through fog that barely linked things together.

“I don’t… r-remember coming here. I don’t remember anything. I-It happened on Wednesday. I didn’t wake up until… Monday. It was just a haze. I don’t know if anything I thought I saw was real. I don’t know. I don’t know.” Keep going. Keep talking. Past the blood. Past the violence. What happened next. What happened next?

“We didn’t know if she was gonna make it. She wasn’t going to. But she did. But she’s…” Not there. Not when he saw her last. He wanted to see her. But they won’t let him. Maybe because she knew it was his fault she had been hurt. Just like last time.

Just like last time.

Stephen didn’t realize he had been crying until the tears dripped down his cheeks and onto the back of his hands. Like drops of blood staining his skin. Drops of her blood.

“I don’t know if I was… dreaming. I saw things. Things I want to forget. Things I can’t forget. Things I see every time I close my eyes. Things I hear when it’s silent. It won’t  _ go away. _ I hear them scream and I see the fire, I  _ feel _ the fire, I feel like I’m burning-”

Burning. Smoke filling his lungs. Garlic on his tongue. The burned tent walls. The line of beds, all occupied. The bodies laying only feet outside the door. They can’t scream, they lost the strength to scream, their throats already raw. There was no water. They used all the water. Where are the reinforcements? Where-

No.  _ No. _ He’s not there anymore. And he needs to breathe. Because he’s not there.

Central District.

Therapy group.

Breathe.

The clock. He can see the clock. 7:40. It’s 7:40, he’s in the Central District, he’s with his therapy group.

He’s with Natasha, Wanda, Fury, Thor, Bruce and Tony. And he’s safe.

Color flooded his vision again, and he caught the first breath he could. Breathe, stomach first, fill up slow, let it out slow.

In. Out. In. Out. Slow.

And he’s back. He can see their faces. He can see Wanda’s look of horror, Natasha’s carefully maintained facade of calmness. Bruce staring at the ground. Thor stiff in his chair, ready to get up at any moment. Fury watching every move he made. And Tony right beside him, teeth gritted together, barely holding back the words already repeating through his head.

“I’m okay,” he breathed, even as the words took his small air supply. Another gulp of air. “I’m okay.”

It took fourteen more breaths, yes he counted, before he could string a coherent thought together, and that thought was that he was thirsty. Blearily looking at the silent occupants in the room, he rasped, “Does anyone have… Anything to drink?”

Thor practically jumped in his chair, already reaching into his bag and pulling out a drinking bottle. “Of course,” he said, keeping his voice down just in case he were to spook Stephen. Right now, he felt much too tired to even care about the courtesy. The bottle was passed to Bruce, then to Tony, who held it out to Stephen.

He really should have been more thoughtful with the amount he drank, but as soon as he put the bottle to his lips, he almost drained the contents. Water. Clean water. It only made his body feel that much heavier as he drank like it was the last few drops left on this war-torn earth. But he managed to stop himself from finishing off the bottle, dropping his head and wordlessly handing it back to Tony. If Thor was insulted by the amount Stephen drank, he gave no sign.

Curling his fingers back into the scarf, he began to smooth it out from the abuse he had lashed out onto it. He hoped he didn’t tear some of the strings. “I-I’m done,” he stammered out again, reaching up with his left hand to wipe away the tears he had shed. “I don’t know what else to say.”

“How do you feel?” Fury asked, his voice in the middle-distance. Still calm, centered and focused.

His first instinct was to pass off a sarcastic remark, but the energy to do so was fleeting. He felt… Tired. His thoughts were muddy. Sluggish. The rest of his body felt like an odd combination of light and heavy at the same time, trying to pull him down but still feeling weightless. A few more tears spilled without his consent, and he wiped those away just as quick.

“My head’s… full of cotton. I’m drained. Tired. But…” Could he really say that word? Was he  _ allowed _ to say that word? Swallowing to try to keep his throat moist, he shrugged. “Better. In some sense. I don’t know how, but… I feel lighter.”

“That’s normal.” At least some part of this experience was. He wasn’t sure what else could be considered normal here. “Do you want to answer a few questions? Just to help you unpack your thoughts?”

Stephen wasn’t sure why, but he nodded. Sure. Might as well. He was already this deep, might as well go all the way to the bottom. He still didn’t look up, even when the circle fell silent, just stared at the floor like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Wanda spoke after some time. “Do you remember coming to the meeting?” she asked quietly, her voice just as hushed as Thor’s was.

“No. I… I don’t think I remember anything that actually happened. I don’t know. I have a near perfect eidetic memory, and this is the first time I can say I’ve lost any memory.” Stephen let out a single choked laugh, humorless and empty. “I wish I could have used that at a different time. Might have saved me from a lot of nightmares.”

“After you… came to,” Thor began, his voice getting a little stronger, “how were you feeling? From Monday to now. Did you recover your sense of time?”

“Sometimes. I did lose it a few times.” That was putting it lightly. On Monday alone, he had lost two hours just because he couldn’t remember what day it was. He spent far too long in the shower and didn’t remember a single thing other than the heat on his skin. Then there was actually entering the North District… “I don’t know if I’m getting better.”

“You are,” Tony encouraged beside him. “Came back without me having to help you.”

Another snarky remark sat on his tongue, but it disappeared far too quickly. A little warmth curled in his chest, one he could mistaken as pride. Being prideful in coming back from a panic attack without assistance… It was a very strange thing to be proud of, and Stephen wasn’t sure if it was a good thing. Probably not.

Tears were still sliding down his cheeks, and he rubbed them away. “I-I don’t know why I’m…” he stammered, unable to say that word. Crying. Why was he crying? He shouldn’t be crying. He had stopped talking already. But even thinking about crying was just making the tears come faster, and they wouldn’t stop… His chest was tight again, but not from panic. No, pull yourself together.

You’re better than this.

What would Tao say if she saw you like this? Crying. Crying over memories. Over the past. You can’t change the past. You can’t… You shouldn’t have any tears left to cry.

“Don’t hold back, Stephie.”

Tony’s form was blurred with his tears, but he could make out the whiskey eyes that looked at him with such honesty, such warmth, that it only made the tears come that much faster. Tony smiled, and Stephen swore, he  _ swore, _ he saw the glimmer of tears in his eyes, too. “You don’t have to be afraid to cry. Not with us. We’re here for you.”

That was what broke him down. The idea that there were people… There for him. They understood. They…

They  _ cared. _

For what felt like far too much in the span of one day, Stephen let himself cry. And with every tear that left, muffled into his hands, it felt like that little bit of weight was being picked up and off his shoulders. It was such a… relief.

A relief he had not felt in so very,  _ very _ long.

He only scraped together his composure when he finally heard the sound around him, of soft clapping. Like he had achieved something. Like he had  _ won. _ And when he looked back up, confused as to just why they were celebrating his breakdown, he found himself looking back at Fury.

“We’re proud of you for having the courage to talk. It’s not something everyone can do,” he rumbled, and for what had to be the first time Stephen saw, the corners of his lips turned up in the slightest smile. He reached over to beneath his chair, where he had his bag tucked away, and took out a piece of cloth. He stood up and crossed the circle, then held out the cloth for Stephen to wipe his tears.

“Congratulations, Stephen. You’ve taken your first step today. Now you can begin to heal.”

* * *

Seeing Stephen walking out of that room was a view Tony wished he could have permanently etched into his mind. How he stood a little taller, held his head a little higher, and he was  _ talking. _ Tony felt like he was moments away from bursting with pride. Even from this morning, Stephen had taken  _ huge _ strides.

Stephen was pausing at the doorway, still talking to Thor, Wanda and Natasha, but threw a glance over his shoulder to Tony.

“You go on ahead,” Tony waved him off, keeping his other hand wrapped around the straps of their bags. Already he could feel his arm starting to ache, but that may just be the battery being the heaviest bag he had to carry. “I’m just gonna talk to Scowler about something quick.” He heard Fury scoff at the nickname, but it was enough to make Stephen smirk. Another win for Tony.

Stephen simply nodded and stepped out the door, letting it close behind him. It left just Tony and Fury, as Bruce had been the first to leave. It seemed like that guy just wasn’t acting right, and he wondered if it still had to do with Stephen’s arm. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be  _ that _ big of a deal. Bruce didn’t seem like a germaphobe.

Glancing back to Fury, he watched as the other man was putting away his supplies into a closet, then locking it with a padlock. It was about as much as they could do to protect it, and hope that no one bothered wandering into this building. Hell, it may have been someone’s house at some point, Tony had no clue. He had a feeling Fury didn’t either.

“My baby’s growing up,” Tony grinned, already walking to the front doors. He liked being able to hang behind until Fury locked up, at least before the whole situation with Stephen started. It gave him someone to talk to other than Sam, Cliff, Pepper and sometimes Rhodey.

Fury stood up and brushed his clothes, then grabbed his bag. “He is, indeed,” he agreed, taking one last look around the room for any lost belongings. “Starting to come out of his shell. Maybe he’ll set an example for the others.”

“Never would have thought  _ he’d _ be the one to do it,” Tony said, shaking his head. “Hopefully the others don’t need people getting stabbed and dying to get them out of their shells. I can only handle one catastrophe at a time.”

Fury just rolled his eyes and walked to the front doors. He was already digging into his pocket for the key. “We don’t get to choose our times,” Fury reminded. “You have yet to break out of your own shell.”

“Me?” Tony gawked, pressing his hand to his chest. “I’m practically leading the pack! I think I’m offended.”

“But that’s not you, is it?”

“Hey, if you’re gonna psychoanalyze me, you can just ask the Doc, he’d-”

Before the words could even finish coming out of his mouth, there was the sound of a crackle behind them. Fury stiffened, jerking his head to stare back into the room. Dust was falling from the ceiling, from a crack that had been growing for the last few weeks.

“I think you got a leak,” Tony muttered, already stepping back into the room. “Have you checked what’s on the floor above?”

Fury didn’t answer, just carefully stepped in front of Tony. “You should leave,” he muttered, never taking his eyes off the ceiling.

“What, you think there’s some crazy rabid possum or raccoon that’s gonna bite me?” Tony scoffed. “Let’s see if we can crack open some doors, see if we can chase out-”

Once again, being so rude to cut him off mid sentence, the cracking came again. But it wasn’t just a crack. Right before his eyes, the crack started to get wider. And wider. It spider-webbed out like shattered glass, and before Tony could open his mouth again, it… Fell through.

Tony yelped as he jumped back, already reaching back and clinging to the bag holding his battery. The dust was blinding at first, and he could hear Fury coughing at what had to be at least five years of decay, but he squinted to see through it.

“Ow…”

A voice. One that didn’t belong to either him or Fury. A young voice, too. Tony stiffened as he stared at the floor, at the shape that was sprawled out. A human shape.

But then Fury was blocking his view, ushering him towards the door. “You need to leave,” he grunted, his voice deep and stoic.

“H-hey, I just want to help, what the fuck’s going on?!” Tony scrambled to form sentences, still trying to get a better look at the shape that had literally  _ fallen out of the ceiling. _

“And you’ll help more if you leave. I’ll handle this.”

Without another word, or even a moment to let Tony respond about what  _ the fuck _ was going on, Fury had already pushed him out the double doors and slammed them shut in his face.

He stared at the bullet-riddled doors, like he expected them to part open by his command, but when they didn’t…

“What the actual  _ fuck?!” _

“Tony?”

Stephen’s voice had him spinning around, staring at the doctor with owlish eyes. The other three people must have left, as Stephen was standing alone. “Uh,” he stammered, trying to place his own thoughts in order and failing spectacularly. “Fury’s, uh, fixing something. I think. You know what, let’s just go.”

“Are you su-”

“Yes! Let’s go! I promised you supper, and we have to get our asses home before Sam worries his little head off at us being eleven seconds late.”


	24. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen is supposed to heal. But he also needs support. He needs to be able to trust his support. But maybe he shouldn't even trust himself.

The fence rattled open, the lights overhead illuminating the single soldier standing on the other side. Perhaps luck was on his side, as it wasn’t Cliff. It was Sam. Surely his luck would turn and he will have to be face to face to his victim’s brother again, but just not tonight. Tonight he could rest. He deserved it.

“Clifford?” Tony asked as they walked through the gate, his voice tense.

“He’s still not over whatever he’s got. I sent him back home to rest it off,” Sam murmured in response, glancing over his shoulder to the small building a few hundred feet away. “You said you were a doctor?” he asked as he turned and stared back at Stephen. “Do you think you can… I don’t know. Check him over?”

“Not a good idea,” Tony answered for him, mostly because Stephen was still walking down the path and was not stopping for their conversation. “Doc’s tired. Maybe tomorrow you can ask him. But I wanna be there if you have to. I’m not letting Cliff pull that shit on him again.”

“I-I know, I talked to him, it just-...”

The voices faded into the distance as Stephen let his feet carry him down the stone road. He let his eyes follow the cracks, the grass springing up between, the usually bright green turned into a soft silver by moonlight. There were still streetlights speckled down the road, and for just a moment, he could imagine himself just… Walking down a normal road. No debris, no walls, just a road that stretched on and on…

But that road had to end at some point, and it led him straight to the apartment building Tony lived in. Reaching out, he tested the front door. Locked. Oh.

“Here,” Tony’s voice finally came up behind him, though he may have been staring at the doorknob for a couple minutes before he came back. Stephen didn’t really care. All he cared about was that there was a room in this building that had a bed and he would collapse straight into the soft mattress and blankets. Tony reached forward and unlocked the door, pushing it open for Stephen.

That was all the invitation he needed as he almost stumbled through the doorway. The bags that were still hauled over his shoulders felt like they were weighed down with bricks, and he already forgot what was actually inside. His mind was just… foggy. But a different kind of foggy. Not the ‘nothing in life matters, everything is meaningless’ foggy. Just foggy. Lightheaded. Tired.

That was the word. Tired. He was tired.

“Any idea what you want to eat? I should still have some chicken in the freezer. Pork. Not sure what cut of beef, but there’s something in there.”

Even the temptation of meat, actual  _ meat,  _ barely prodded more than a blink. Food was good. Bed was better.

As soon as Tony unlocked the door to his apartment room, Stephen’s arm went lax and almost dumped all the bags onto the ground. He had just enough foresight to drag the bags against the wall before he let go.

“Steph, you okay?” Tony asked behind him. “You’re a little out of it.”

“Tired.”

“Oh.” Tony paused, but Stephen was already walking to the bedroom door. He didn’t even think about not taking the bed from Tony, he could feel guilty later. All he cared about was that there was a bed and it was his and he will take it. “Uh, I’ll get supper started, and I’ll wake you up when it’s ready. Sound like a plan?”   


“‘Kay.” Stephen wasn’t sure if he ever said that word before in his life, but it was all he could drag out from his lips. He pushed open the door to the bedroom, and even with his shoes still on his feet and dressed in the same clothes he had worn through the marketplace and the meeting, he dropped onto the bed like a stone. All he could do was haphazardly toss a blanket over himself, make sure that all his limbs on the bed, and dragged a pillow beneath his head before he was asleep between one breath and the next.

And he would have stayed asleep probably until morning had it not been for the hand shaking his good shoulder.

“Doc,” the voice said, muffled through his sleep. “Wakey, wakey, eggs and bacy. I got food on the table. Don’t make me nuke it in the microwave.”

Never had opening his eyes taken so much effort as it had in that exact moment. It felt like they had been glued shut, a possible aftermath of the many tears he had spilled today. Was it still today? Did it matter? Not really. But he’d much rather go back to sleep, even with the temptation of food.

Another shake, and the blurry sight in front of him started to focus. Tony was in a fresh change of clothes, probably to prepare to sleep as soon as they finished eating. What were they eating? Stephen had no clue. Reaching up, Stephen rubbed at his eyes.

“There you go, sleeping beauty. Up we go. I dug out some nice cuts I’ve been saving for a special occasion.”

While feeling every joint in his body crack and crumble with even the small motion of sitting up, Stephen yawned. “Cuts of what?” he asked, ignoring the popping in his back.

“Beef. No idea what part, but it’s beef. Nice and tender still. Do you want to change before you eat? Wash up? Hot water should still be going, just had to use a bit to defrost the beef. Or if you wanna wait until before you actually sleep. Are you still tired?”

Every word out of Tony’s mouth felt like it was being hammered into his skull, with a headache beginning to throb in the back of his skull. Ah, probably another side effect of breaking down what had to be at least… Three times? Four? Maybe even five. Stephen didn’t want to count. Rubbing at his face, Stephen sluggishly slid off the bed.

“I’ll go back to bed after I eat,” he mumbled, finally standing up straight. His mouth felt like it was filled with cotton, just like his head. It seemed that the nap barely helped at all. How lucky of him.

Still trying to find any clarity in his foggy mind, Stephen wandered into the living room and glanced to the table. Sure enough, there was meat. Actual meat.

It had been so long, Stephen almost forgot what it looked like. What it smelled like. Just taking in the smallest whiff was enough to make his stomach practically scream, growling so loud that he heard Tony stutter to a stop behind him.

_ “Jesus, _ Doc, you’d think I never feed you,” Tony grinned, even as he could see the shadows lurking in the honey eyes. The incident from yesterday was still fresh in his mind just as it lingered in Stephen’s. “I’m still having you take it easy on the food, the rest I got in the fridge for tomorrow or if you get hungry later tonight.”

Looking back to the table, Stephen noticed there was only a single placement at the table, with a glass of tea sitting next to the plate with some bite-sized chunks of cooked meat. “You’re not eating?” Stephen asked, finally approaching the table and pulling out his chair.

“Ate while you were asleep, I finished sooner than I thought I would, got hungry, and before I knew it, I was out of food.” The grin was still present on Tony’s face as he plopped down in his seat at the head of the table. “Had to check to make sure I did it right, though. Make sure it wasn’t pink in the middle. Probably not good to get food poisoning on an empty stomach.”

“It’s not good to get food poisoning  _ at all,” _ Stephen said, the corner of his lips twitching up to a smirk, but he simply didn’t have the energy. Looking down at the placement, Stephen frowned. A fork and a knife. It would be much messier to eat with his hand, not to mention unsanitary. It seemed that he would have to use the fork. At least the meat seemed to be cut into small enough chunks to not need to be cut further. Somehow, Stephen didn’t think Tony cut up the meat just to check to see if the meat was properly cooked…

But neither said a word about it, if just to save face. Stephen would have a hard enough picking up a fork. Resting his right arm on the table, noticing that the bandages were practically falling off at this point, Stephen reached out and wrapped his left hand around the fork.

It was far from sophisticated, but he got a good enough grip and stabbed the fork into the first piece of meat. Just seeing the juices leak out of the meat made his heart skip in his chest, his chest momentarily tightening.

No, stay calm. There was no need for a repeat of last night. There was more food, Tony said so. This was not all he had to eat. There would be more.

The words repeated in his mind as he lifted the fork and finally bit down onto the chunk, and had he not exhausted his emotions for the entire day, he may have been delighted by the taste. Maybe even driven to tears. But all he could do was hum in approval and eat. It was delicious. But he was still tired.

He will appreciate it properly tomorrow.

“While you were asleep, I called up Pepper. She’s a friend that lives here. She’s coming back home tomorrow so I was thinking of inviting her over so you two can get to know each other. I mean, we’re probably the only people in this whole building. Or if you’d rather, we can go see Bruce. I’m kinda pissed at him right now, but I bet you two can talk up medicine and science and all that. He lives down the street, just past the gates. I know there’s more people in that building than ours. Everyone here usually keeps to themselves, which is pretty boring. Sometimes I feel like I’m going out of my mind when there’s no one to talk to here. I know I’ve been a pain in Pepper’s side ever since she moved in, and I’ve known Bruce before the meetings, too, I have their numbers in my phone if you ever want to talk to them.”

Again, Stephen wished that he could just sleep through this conversation. Tony just started talking and talking and talking and… It was soothing. In an annoying sort of soothing where he wanted to rip out his eardrums, but still soothing. It was better than listening to silence. And it was keeping his mind occupied without it devolving into a search for more food.

Though he did notice that Tony didn’t even have his hands on the table, keeping them out of sight. Making sure he wasn’t perceived as a threat. The inner starving animal in him was content with this.

It also gave him some measure of clarity, enough to realize the ache beginning in his stomach. There was still a few more chunks of meat, and he wanted nothing more than to swallow them whole as he still felt the gnawing strain of hunger, but… Pace himself.

“I shouldn’t eat anymore for tonight,” Stephen murmured, his heart sinking. Just a few more bites. Why can’t he eat the rest? Or rather, why couldn’t he  _ allow _ himself to eat the rest?

“But you want to,” Tony confirmed, keeping himself still and seated.

“I do.”

“No big deal, I’m glad you like it and you know your limits. Already getting better and you’re letting your doctor brain take over. I’ll just put it with the fridge with the rest and you can eat the rest tomorrow.” Even as he said that, he still did not move. Clearly he was trying to figure out a way to take the food without… triggering Stephen.

Though Stephen was sure that he was much too tired to react the same way as yesterday, it was still a valid fear, especially as the fact that there was still food on the table was undoing every ounce of his will.

So he should go to bed. Right? He should get up and go straight to bed, curl up and not wake up until the sun is high in the sky the next day. But… There were things that he needed to say. Things he needed to talk about. But right now, his brain just wouldn’t put the words in order. Even the ones that would allow him to leave the table, to either ask for permission or to simply say he was going to bed.

Hopefully this wasn’t what recovery would feel like for the rest of the long journey. He’d appreciate having his thoughts in order again.

“You can go sleep or shower or whatever you wanna do,” Tony nonchalantly said, freeing Stephen of the need to speak. The idea of showering was still so… foreign to him, so he chose to sleep instead.

Stephen was shaky as he stood up from the table, and his eyes lingered on the few bites of food for much longer than he intended, but he managed to turn away. Just as he expected, as soon as Stephen was a good distance away from the table, Tony finally stood to collect the food and refrigerate it. Tomorrow he could nurse his wounded pride, but for tonight, he needed rest. And within seconds, Stephen had already entered the bedroom and curled himself back into the warmth of the blankets.

Tomorrow would be clearer. He hoped.

* * *

Dreamless.

A night filled with nothing but silence was a blessing that Stephen would not normally take for granted, but it left him feeling like he had only just closed his eyes when morning came.

There was just enough light slipping between the thick curtains that dragged at Stephen’s senses, and even when a sting of panic hooked into him at his unfamiliar surroundings, the memories leaked back in. Tony’s apartment. North District. Saturday morning. He blearily searched for a clock, then saw an electronic digital clock sitting on a countertop. 11:28, so it was barely considered morning. When was the last time he let himself sleep in so deep, without having been in a catatonic state to do so?

It took time to work himself into a sitting position without immediately giving himself up to the soft mattress to sleep longer. It was only then that he realized that his shoes were sitting right beside the bed. He didn’t remember taking them off. He didn’t remember much after eating.

Speaking of eating… 

Stephen reached up to push his lengthened hair out of his face, only to realize that it had been cut down the day before. It should help conserve on water needed to rinse it out at the very least. Running his fingers through his now-short wavy hair, Stephen walked out the cracked bedroom door and glanced around.

Just as it was the first day he came, every counter space was now cluttered and filled with  _ stuff. _ He recognized it mostly from the things Tony had bought from the day before, being the massive piles of DVDs and books. It already had Stephen itching to clean them up, but there was very little he could do when he had no idea where anything went.

This wasn’t his apartment, so it wasn’t his business.

“Morning, sleepy sheepy.”

“Technically morning,” Stephen muttered, glancing to the couch where he heard Tony’s voice. The other man had his arms resting on the top of the couch, sitting his chin upon them to watch Stephen. “You should have woken me sooner.”

“You needed sleep,” Tony said, his eyes scanning his weary body. “I put your clothes in the closet, your stuff is on the left side.”

“How did you do that without waking me up?” Stephen asked, pulling his attention to the kitchen. If what Tony said was true, then the meat he had cooked yesterday should still be in the fridge. Hopefully he would be allowed to finish the meal this time. Then again, he… wasn’t really hungry.

Stephen had already trained his body to have one meal last a couple days. It would take time to correct the habit, but then he’d be going right back to the sparse meals once he returned to the hospital. And he would return. Tony couldn’t keep him here forever, no matter how much Tony was trying to cushion the idea with gifts and meals.

His duty was with the hospital, as it had been for the past four years. It wasn’t Stephen’s choice to stay.

“Did you want something for… whatever you want to call this? Breakfast? Lunch? Brunch? All of the above?”

“That is technically what brunch is,” Stephen sighed, pausing in front of the fridge. He should have food, it was waiting right there. But he shouldn’t. Not yet. He needed to let himself feel hunger. There should be a proper schedule to how much he should be eating to reintroduce food but… He couldn’t remember. He just couldn’t remember.

Perhaps because no one had started recovering from the lack of food and supplies.

“I got some fruit if you want something lighter?”

Yes. Lighter. Just get something into his body. He scanned the countertop and picked up a smaller apple. That would have to do. Turning around, Stephen weighed his options. Go change clothes, go shower, or maybe just go back to sleep. Tony was still waiting on the couch, eyes still trained on him. Certainly Tony wouldn’t be happy with him going back to sleep, since it seemed like he was waiting for Stephen to wake up.

In the end, Stephen decided for a simple change of clothes, though he was taken aback by just  _ how many _ articles of clothing now lined the closet, not just his own. The one closet probably held more clothing than all the doctors owned combined, and that in itself left a deep guilt in his stomach. Whatever clothes they would get would last maybe a couple weeks before it was used for emergency bindings and bandages. It was just easier to live in the scrubs that washed easily.

Stephen picked out a long sleeved shirt and sweatpants, if just to keep warm. The sleeves were just long enough to cover up to his wrist, though he was still pulling at the sleeve in any attempt to cover up his hand. The bandages had come off at some point last night, not that he remembered. He should really rebind them… But not now.

There were more important things that needed to be done first.

With his right arm already tucked behind him, Stephen walked back out into the living room, where Tony was still sitting and waiting. The wolf whistle he was greeted by had him ducking his head and trying to regain some amount of poise and composure, but the flush on his cheeks had already disobeyed him. “Stop,” he grunted, only flushing harder at how flimsy his voice was.

Clearing his throat, Stephen walked around the couch and pulled at the blankets that infested it, opening up a corner for him to sit down. Before he could open his mouth, though, Tony was already talking.

“I found some movies and shows that we can watch. I mean, we don’t really have anything else to do. We could go back to the marketplace, but you’re probably tired, so I made sure that we’d keep it easy today. If you wanted to go see Bruce, we could totally do that, too, or we can see Sam. Cliff is probably sick and I know you probably don’t want to deal with him, which is fine, I bet Pepper is back, so we can always-”

“Before all that,” Stephen broke through, not willing to let Tony continue on his tangent. He could be talking just to keep Stephen from opening a conversation he didn’t want to partake in. That was exactly what was about to happen, though, because Stephen did not see this conversation going well. Swallowing, Stephen continued. “I wanted to talk about this… agreement we have.”

“Floor’s all yours,” was all Tony replied with, and when Stephen looked back to him, he saw Tony was curled up into the other corner and had already piled blankets on top of himself. Stephen had a feeling that the battery was sitting on his lap, just covered up within the thicket of blankets. There were stacks of DVDs sitting right by his spot on the floor, ones he probably intended to start playing once Stephen woke up. Tony’s eyes met Stephen’s but just barely. The humor was already melting away.

Now how was Stephen supposed to begin… Stephen pulled his legs up and slid them beneath his body in an effort to keep them warm, or just to keep himself from fidgeting. “I understand that you want me to trust you,” he started, forcing himself to keep eye contact, “but I’m…  _ struggling _ to be able to do that when you constantly push me past my limits.” There. He opened the door. Now he just needed to keep this conversation civilized.

Tony’s brow furrowed and he tilted his head. “I’m helping you get better,” Tony said plainly, sliding his hands beneath the blankets probably to toy with the battery. “Just trust that whatever I’m doing, I’m doing it to help you heal.”

“Yes, I understand that,” Stephen sighed, reaching up and resting his fingertips against his temple. He crossed his right arm over his lap, his fingers already snarling themselves into the soft comfort of endless blankets. “But what I don’t think  _ you _ understand is that it’s difficult for me to place trust in someone I barely know, someone who says they are expecting nothing in return, while showering me with gifts and promises.” He paused, if just to focus on Tony’s unchanging expression. “Can you at least see how that may be offputting? How that may make it difficult to trust you when things like yesterday happen?”

Tony didn’t respond right away, instead he kept his eyes locked with Stephen’s, almost excruciatingly so. “So what you’re telling me,” he started, then paused. “Let me get this straight first. You think you can’t trust me because I’m doing things you don’t like to help you get better.”

Stephen’s breath caught in his throat, managing to hold back a response that surely would have only agitated Tony. No, calm. He shouldn’t back Tony into a corner, nor should he be attacking him. “My problem is not having a choice in what I do. I’d rather not go through this thinking that I’m being  _ forced _ to get better, not  _ trying _ to get better by my own will.”

More silence. Tony’s eyes narrowed, and Stephen felt his gut flip. This wasn’t going the way he had planned. “This is about me ‘tricking’ you to go to the session, isn’t it? Because I wouldn’t let you worm out of it?”

“You didn’t give me a choice,” Stephen retorted, his patience already wearing thin so soon. This wasn’t what he wanted to happen. He didn’t want to fight, because he knew fighting would get  _ nothing _ done.

Tony moved, never breaking eye contact as he sat himself up and leaned in closer. Even if it was just by a few inches, Stephen could feel his throat tighten up. He unconsciously pressed himself back into the couch if just to keep some distance between them. It wasn’t working.

“Look me in the eye and  _ tell _ me that you would have gone to that session if I hadn’t tricked you.”

Barely. Stephen was barely hanging on. His stomach clenched up, his throat tight, but no, there had to be a way to calm this back down. “I would have liked to  _ at least _ have a say in the matter. If you would have talked to me before we left the marketplace-”

“You wouldn’t have agreed, don’t even try lying to me or yourself.”

“You’re treating me like a child, like I can’t think for myself!”

_ “Can you?” _

There it was. The elephant in the room. Stephen’s breath choked in his throat, refusing to budge. Tony’s eyes only narrowed further, knowing full well the nerve he had struck. But he didn’t stop.

“Do you want to know what you did at the last session? Nothing. Absolutely  _ nothing. _ You sat there, covered in blood, mumbling all sorts of crazy shit, and you think I can trust you to think for yourself?”

Crazy.

“You’re lucky I was there and I helped you! Everyone else would have just left you there to rot, but I helped you!”

Rot.

“You didn’t come back for an entire  _ day, _ and the second you came back, you were going on and on about shit that wasn’t happening! You didn’t remember what happened to your own fucking Mom, you just screamed about something that didn’t happen! You freaked out  _ everyone, _ but I stayed!”

Freak.

“Just howling about people burning, about planes and fire and  _ nothing was there!” _

Burn.

“And you’re telling me that you can take care of yourself? That you even  _ know _ what’s best for you?”

No. He can’t.

“You don’t. You’re not in control, and you haven’t been for a  _ long ass time.” _

No control. Stop.

“And that’s why you’re not going back, because the next time this happens, it’s not just going to hurt yourself. You’re going to hurt someone else, and I’m not having that blood on my hands.”

Stop.

“You’re not a doctor, you’re  _ sick.” _

_ Stop. _

“You’re sick and you need help, and I don’t care how hard you fight me, you’re getting it!”

_ “Stop!” _

Stephen’s voice echoed through the apartment, silencing all other sounds, even breath. They were frozen, Tony’s face flushed, tear-tracks already running down Stephen’s face, mouths hung open with unsaid words. Maybe they were supposed to be apologies. Maybe they were supposed to be acceptance. But there was nothing.

All there was, all there would be, was Stephen abruptly standing up and staggering across the apartment. He needed air. He needed space. He needed to breathe. And he only just saw the white badge out of the corner of his eye and grabbed it. He needed  _ out. _

Throwing open the door, Stephen didn’t even bother with slamming it. It would have taken too much time.

He needed out.


	25. SIlence Isn't Golden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony absolutely didn't fuck up. Nope. Not at all. He just has to keep telling himself that.
> 
> At least until someone tells him differently, and enough times to drill it into his head. There's always that distinct possibility.

Okay. He may have fucked up.

A little.

Just a tiny bit.

But that didn’t mean it was all his fault.

Tony glared at the other end of the couch, to the empty spot that Stephen had abandoned to go run off to… wherever. It wasn’t his fault that Stephen reacted like that. It wasn’t his fault that they had to have this conversation to begin with. And it wasn’t his fault that Stephen couldn’t understand that he just wasn’t  _ safe _ thinking for himself right now. Tony just did a favor and told Stephen in the safety of the apartment rather than in the middle of the session where he could be embarrassed.

So this wasn’t his fault.

It still sucked, though.

Groaning, Tony sank deeper into the couch and stretched out on the cushions, only to wince at that loose spring digging into his side. He just needed to rip that damn thing out already. Resting his head onto the shoulder of the couch, Tony adjusted the battery to sit on his chest, wrapping his arms around it like it was the worst pillow to ever exist. All he wanted to do today was relax on the couch together and watch a few movies, finally take a moment to rest. Maybe be able to talk to Stephen like a normal person, and not a mental patient.

But that was all out the window, because Stephen had ran out on him because he didn’t like what Tony had to say.

Why did he even bother sometimes? Tony was trying his best, he got everything Stephen would ever need, and Stephen still wasn’t happy. What was he doing wrong?

If there was anyone who could answer that question, though, it had to be a certain woman just down the hall.

He had heard her coming home a couple hours ago, as he was certain they really  _ were _ the only ones that lived here, and he had been waiting for Stephen to wake up so they could visit her together. At least then Pepper could put a face to the name Tony had been telling her all about. Now, he just needed some of her feminine wisdom to try to figure out what he needed to do to make Stephen understand that this was the only way.

Tony scooted off the couch in a less than graceful fashion, since he almost landed on his ass, but managed to get to his feet without making too much of a fool of himself. That would come later when he’s whining to Pepper about how difficult men could be.

Not bothering with locking his door, since he may as well let Stephen slink back into the apartment without causing too much of a scene, Tony walked down the hall and stopped in front of Pepper’s door. Chances were that she was resting after having to go… wherever she goes, but this was more important. Clearing his throat, he reached up and knocked on the door.

“Peppi-long stockings?”

“Oh God…”

Tony couldn’t help but grin at that unenthusiastic groan. Same ol’ Pepper. “Darling, don’t be like that. You’re always happy to see me.”

The expression he was met with when the door opened said otherwise. But once again, same ol’ Pepper. “What do you want this time?” Pepper groaned, running her fingers through her hair and pulling it back.

“I’m having boy problems.”

“What a coincidence, so am I,” Pepper deadpanned, “and I’m looking at it right now.”

“You wound me,” Tony whined in return, reaching up and pressing his hand to his chest. “If I didn’t have this battery, you’d have struck me down right here.”

Making a show out of rolling her eyes, Pepper finally stepped back and opened the door for him. “Whatever it was, it can’t wait?” Pepper sighed, walking back into the apartment. Her’s was much nicer than Tony’s, if just because it was clean and tidy. It wasn’t that Tony was a slob, it was just… he wasn’t used to not having an entire shop to play with. There just wasn’t enough room for all his tools and projects. He was still trying to convince the big guys upstairs to allow him to have another room.

Or he could just take one for himself. No one would notice if he just… knocked down a few walls?

Tony made no hesitation in plopping down onto Pepper’s couch, letting his battery roll off to the side while he scavenged for some blankets. “Doc’s mad at me,” he started just as he pulled a fleece blanket over himself. “He ran out on me and now I have to wait for him to cool off, so yeah, this is the only time I can come and complain about boy troubles.”

“Uh huh, I’m sure you did absolutely nothing to warrant him being upset.” Pepper sat down on the other side of the couch, sagging into the cushions and claiming a blanket for herself. Once she was comfortable, she leaned back and met Tony’s eyes, motioning for him to begin.

So he did. He went through prior day, sparing most details about Stephen’s  _ numerous _ breakdowns and that whole episode with Cliff, talked about the meeting, and the argument the following morning. Tony was sure to add in the facts that he cooked Stephen’s dinner and had gotten him a new wardrobe, of course. But as soon as he was finished, he realized that Pepper’s expression was something he couldn’t decipher. That wasn’t different from normal, but now? Was he not explaining it right?

“So now I’m waiting for him to come back,” Tony finished, waving his hand towards the hallway. “He has his badge, though, and Sam and Cliff won’t let him outside The Wall-”

“It sounds like you very well fucked up.”

Tony’s mind stuttered to a stop, mouth still hanging open. What? Was she not listening? Blinking, Tony pressed his hand to his chest. “Hey, you should be on my side on this. I did what had to be done. I just have to wait for Doc to cool off.”

Pepper crossed her arms over her chest, fixing what he could only label as a  _ disappointed _ expression on her face. He wasn’t a  _ child. _ “Do you have any idea how this looks to anyone  _ but _ yourself?” she asked, raising one eyebrow.

“Yes,” Tony scoffed. “I look like a person trying to help someone else and who is  _ honestly _ getting attacked right now for doing a good thing. What’s up with this?” Maybe this was a bad idea, he thought. Rolling his eyes, Tony plopped his hands back onto his lap. “Never mind, just forget I said anything. You’re right, I’m wrong, that’s how it’s always been-”

“Before you start your normal self-righteous bull,” Pepper interrupted, holding up one hand to silence him, “hear me out. You seem to have trouble with that, anyway. Consider this practice.”

Honestly, Tony should be given an award for not rolling his eyes so hard that they popped right out of his skull. But he did place his elbows onto his thighs and rested his chin on his hands, leaning in and making sure to bat his eyelashes. “I’m listening, oh wise one,” he hummed, fully enjoying the look of pure exasperation over Pepper’s face.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve told Stephen?” she deadpanned, reaching up and pressing her fingers to her temple to ward off a growing headache. “You told him that because you bought him clothing, fed him, took him to his meetings, and even more I’m sure you’re not telling me, that he should be in your debt and do what you tell him with no consequences.”

“Hey, I just didn’t want him to wear the same disgusting rags-”

“You can tell yourself whatever you want, but that won’t change what he thinks. He didn’t come from a situation like you where you don’t have to worry about repaying debts.”

What was with all this talk about debts? First Stephen was going on and on about it, and now Pepper? Why couldn’t Tony just  _ do _ something and not have to worry about what comes after? Gritting his teeth together, Tony looked away. “So, what, I let him choose if he wants to get better or not?”

“You need to stop acting like he’s a pet and treat him like a person.”

“A  _ pet?” _ Tony scoffed loudly. Now  _ that _ was ridiculous.

“Yes, a pet.” Pepper said it so firmly that it pulled Tony’s head back to look at her. Her expression was hardened and serious, and a lump formed in his throat. That look only came when Tony was being a particular idiot and wasn’t getting something. Which meant…

“Wait, you’re being serious?” Tony asked. There was no way. Stephen was a human being, of course he wouldn’t be treating him like a pet… Right?

The subtle arch of Pepper’s eyebrow only cemented her words. “You’re supposed to be a genius, you shouldn’t need to be told this. You’re treating him as a pet and you’re not happy that he isn’t learning his tricks fast enough.”

_...Oh. _

Oh. Oh no.

It was like something clicked in his brain. He had been treating Stephen as a pet because… Well, he couldn’t treat Stephen as a person. Not with how he had been acting, of course not! How could he trust Stephen with decisions when he had just come out of a catatonic state? It was just… easier to treat him as a being with no choice. Stephen would be given back his right for choices once he proved that he was coherent.

At least… That’s how it was supposed to be if Stephen was under his control. But he wasn’t.

Stephen wasn’t a pet.

“I think I fucked up,” Tony breathed.

“I think you did, too.”

“Shit, I need to apologize.”

“If he’s willing to speak to you.”

Damn, Tony hated it when Pepper had a point. Stephen had literally ran out on him. Swallowing, Tony leaned back into the couch. “Shit, do I… Should I let him cool off? Should I go look for him? He can’t go far, Sam and Cliff won’t let him leave, and he won’t even go  _ near _ the gates anyway if Cliff is around, maybe he’s back already, you can’t just  _ lose _ a doctor inside this place, right?” Maybe he was starting to panic. Just a little bit.

Reaching over, Pepper placed her hand on top of Tony’s, just enough contact to keep him from going off the rails like he was going to at any second. “If he doesn’t want to talk to you, he won’t. You’ll have to wait for him to come back to you.”

“He’ll get hungry, right? He has to come back when he’s hungry-”

“Tony.”

“Not a pet, got it.”

* * *

 

Right now, a pet would be much easier to take care of than Stephen.

It was nearing eleven at night, almost an hour past curfew. While the curfew only regarded to being inside the District itself for those living in the North District, that didn’t mean wandering around past ten was the best idea. Those on guard duty at the military base tended to get a bit more… twitchy at night.

Tony paced across his apartment, throwing out the hand not holding the battery out into empty air as he tried to convince himself that everything was going to be fine and that he did not need to run out into the middle of the night looking for a grown man. That was becoming more difficult by the minute. The only reason he hadn’t left earlier was because Pepper had been  _ sure _ that Stephen needed some space to himself to think it out but...

Shit, what if Stephen got himself into trouble? What if he wandered to the base itself? He couldn’t leave the District, but that didn’t mean he was safe. What if someone else found him? The other residents? Who knows what sort of freaks lived in this place!

That was assuming that Stephen hadn’t left the District during the day. What if Stephen had left and wasn’t caught? If Cliff wasn’t guarding the wall, Sam certainly wouldn’t make Stephen stay inside the District. What if he was out in some other District, or worse, in No Man’s Land? Somehow got himself lost? No, he couldn’t, Stephen was an adult, he wouldn’t get himself lost like that…

But what if he did?

Tony was still zipping up his coat by the time he stepped outside the apartment, squinting into the darkness. The street lamps did a decent job at illuminating the roads, but past that, it was nothing but darkness. The moon was waning away by the day, leaving just a sliver left in the sky. At least it would illuminate his way to the first place he needed to check; The Wall.

“Steph?” he called out into the darkness as he walked down the path, keeping his arms tight around his battery. There was no response. Tony had at least been hoping that he would be waiting outside, maybe locking himself out of the apartments by accident, but there was no one. Gritting his teeth together, he kept his focus on the path leading up to The Wall. If Stephen happened to be on the other side waiting to get back in, at least Tony could drag Cliff and Sam out.

Though even as he approached the gate, his heart sank. There was no one. Cliff and Sam were nowhere to be seen, and Stephen was not waiting to be let back inside. He swallowed. That could mean that he was inside The Wall. Right? Or was he still trying to make his way back? 

Wait, of course. Sam and Cliff would know!

Diverting off the road, Tony jogged to the house just a couple hundred feet away from the fence. He didn’t like having to disturb the two, especially since their guard duty was wrapped for the night, but they were never truly off duty. This was what they were paid to do, Tony told himself. He was just going to make them do their job.

At least Tony gave the courtesy of knocking, even when it was more pounding his fist against the door. “Anyone home? I need you guys to help me,” he called, ‘knocking’ a few more times. Tony allowed a few seconds to pass, then ‘knocked’ again. “Hello?! Someone get their ass out of bed and help me!”

Seconds later, there was a sharp click on the other side of the door. Weird, they weren’t supposed to lock their doors at night. Maybe he’d keep that as blackmail just in case they decided not to help. Tony took a step back from the door, just in time for it to fling open.

Cliff stood on the other side, and Tony blinked.  _ “What?” _ Cliff hissed, dark eyes narrowed to slits. While Cliff’s abrasive attitude wasn’t one that surprised him, the rest of him was off putting, and for a second, Tony felt guilty for disturbing him.

Sam had already said that Cliff wasn’t feeling well, and judging by his even more pale complexion with a barely-detectable sheen of sweat, the dark rings under his eyes, the hastily thrown-on robe, he wasn’t feeling any better. “Shit, are you okay?” Tony winced, taking a moment to look Cliff over. “Go get Sam instead-”

“He’s  _ busy,” _ Cliff snapped, somehow narrowing his eyes even more. “What do you want?”

Oh, yeah, Tony actually had something important that he needed. Giving himself a quick shake, Tony managed to keep his eyes on Cliff’s face. In the back of his mind, he was surprised that he wasn’t pissed at the sight of the man, with the confrontation between him and Stephen happening just yesterday, but he would have plenty of time to chew Cliff out for it later. Right now, he needed his help. 

“Do you know if Steph left the District? He, uh, left the apartment earlier today and he hasn’t been back. I don’t know if you’ve seen him-”

“No.” The door had almost been swung back into his face had it not been for Tony quickly shoving his foot into the doorway.

“Okay, fucking  _ ow,” _ Tony hissed as his foot was wedged in the gap, and he was almost sure Cliff would just slam his foot again, but after a moment, the guard opened the door again. “First, that was a dick move, second, I need you to help me find him. If he’s not out in another District, then he’s gotta be around here somewhere, just help me find him-”

“What did you do to him?” Cliff interrupted with a groan, and his shoulders were visibly sagging, and for a second time, Tony felt that pang of guilt. It was taking a near constant reminding that this was still the same soldier who was throwing knives into trees and threatened to spill his blood more times than Tony cared to admit.

“Why do you just assume it’s something I’ve done?” Tony whined, taking a moment to look over Cliff’s shoulder in search of Sam. Maybe if he made enough noise, Sam would come help instead. Though as he looked back at Cliff, he flinched under the hard and silent glare. Of course it would be something he’d done, what else could it possibly be?

Sighing, Tony shook his head. “I fucked up and we argued and now he’s mad at me, I just don’t want him to go do something stupid in a place he doesn’t know,” Tony muttered, dropping his eyes down to the ground. The less he talked about just  _ why _ Stephen was out by himself, the better. And for once, Cliff wasn’t interested in throwing salt into his wounds.

“Wait here,” Cliff finally sighed, stepping back from the door. “I need a flashlight.”

“Can you bring Sam-”

Nope, Cliff had already walked away. He did leave the door open just enough to let Tony get a better peek inside. None of the lights were on, meaning that he had either interrupted them from their sleep or they had been on their way to bed. Though he couldn’t help but wonder little details like if they were sleeping in separate rooms, if the house was more like two apartments or if it was a shared living space… Tony had never been inside, and this was probably his only chance… And he was technically still waiting here… Just a couple feet inside the door.

Tony slipped into the house as quietly as he could, making sure the door did not shut behind him as his eyes finally adjusting to the darkness. The house wasn’t very large, just a single story, and from what he could already see, there weren’t many rooms. He couldn’t help but notice that the couch was quite nice, there was a TV, a few shelves of movies… But there was also a part of the wall just covered with hooks, with keys sitting on each of them. There were little signs by each hook to what the keys opened, most being the apartments, others being to storage areas, even to get into the army base itself. Tony even found his own apartment room key on the wall, along with every other room in the building. Perhaps he could get another room after all…

“Stark lost the doctor, I needed to check the perimeter anyway.”

“I can come with-”

“You might have tomorrow’s shift by yourself, just get some sleep.”

“You’re actually admitting that you’re getting too sick to work. At least talk to the doctor-”

“Trust me, it’ll pass.”

The voices drifted from down the hall, and as he peered in the darkness, Tony could make out an open doorway. A light clicked on, faint yet just enough to illuminate out the door.

“Well, be safe.”

“Always am.”

“Take your phone.”

“Already got it.”

Soft padding footsteps, then a pause, then turning into the clomp of boots. That was his cue to get out before he got himself caught. Just as the light was clicked back off, Tony backed his way out the door and stood on the doorstep, just like how Cliff had left him. He was practically a ninja.

It took another minute, but as Tony started to fiddle with the cords on the battery, the door swung fully open again. Cliff stepped through without hesitation, this time fully dressed in street clothes with a flashlight in one hand and a ring filled with keys in the other. “Move,” the soldier grunted just as Cliff turned to lock the door behind him. “We’re making this quick.”

While Tony wanted to say that it would take as much time as it needed to find Stephen and make sure he was safe, he managed to hold his tongue. Dealing with Cliff by himself was bad enough, but a sick and tired Cliff was something else entirely. Perhaps he had to step lightly around everyone for a while.

“Is it past Sam’s bedtime?” he managed to tease, and the corner of Cliff’s lips twitched.

“For once in your life, be quiet.”

Okay, so humor wasn’t going to work. Damn. Tony sighed and stepped back, letting Cliff take the lead. With a click, Cliff turned on the flashlight and started walking all without looking back at Tony. “We’re checking the walls and the woods,” Cliff muttered, already shining the light down the stone wall. “If there’s no sign of him, nothing we can do.”

Nothing they could do? What about  _ look _ for him? Tony bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep the words from spilling out, reminding himself that he should be grateful Cliff was helping at all. Though now he was beginning to think about how this may look to Stephen if they did find him… The same person who was apparently the brother of someone he  _ apparently _ killed hunting them down?

Maybe he should go back and get Sam.

There wasn’t time to go back, though, not as Cliff strode ahead and ran his flashlight over the ground, sometimes darting up to the trees as if Stephen could somehow climb up. Cliff must not know how fucked up Stephen’s arm was. They walked in silence, much too silent for Tony to be comfortable. Not when his mind was still buzzing with the unanswered questions of just  _ where _ Stephen could be.

Clearing his throat, Tony quickened his steps to walk alongside Cliff. “Do you think we’ll find him?” he asked, glancing up at the other man from the corner of his eyes. “He’s been gone since noon. You said he hadn’t left the District?”

“According to Sam, no civilian has passed through the gates today,” Cliff plainly stated, keeping his eyes focused on the surroundings. There was a pause, then Cliff added, “Sam only just got home, too. Customary to wait an extra thirty minutes past curfew to watch for stragglers.” His words were so sterile that it almost made Tony shiver. Sure, he and Cliff had never been that close, but… Maybe yesterday’s incident was still heavy on his mind, too.

Wasn’t every day that you find out that your brother was murdered by a doctor because said brother was about to murder  _ another _ doctor. It may take time to unpack all of that. Could be the reason why he was feeling so sick.

“Hey, you know if something’s going on, you can talk to me about it, right?” Might as well start repairing friendships now so he had some idea of what to do when he sucked up to Stephen for forgiveness. “I know you got Sam to hang out with, but we’re friends. My door’s open if you just want to talk. And I can see if I can get Doc to see if there’s anything he can do-”

“I’m perfectly capable of finding aid. I’m fine. Don’t bring it up again.”

At least Cliff made it a point to tell Tony when to shut up, if just so he doesn’t cross a line. That could be something Stephen could do. It always seemed like Tony said too much and crossed too many lines… But then again, Stephen had been trying to do exactly that earlier, and only pissed Tony off. This was going to be a struggle.

Huffing, Tony looked back ahead and followed the beam of light as it traveled along the stone wall. What else could he do to fill the silence… With every second that ticked by with nothing to occupy it, the thoughts in his head tended to run a little… wild. Not to mention that with every moment that passed without knowing where Stephen was, the guilt only thickened in his chest. If he had just kept his mouth shut, Stephen wouldn’t be upset at him, he wouldn’t have ran out of the apartment, he wouldn’t be outside alone in the cold, in an unfamiliar District, thinking that Tony thought he was just a child, that he couldn’t take care of himself-

“It’s past curfew.”

Tony jerked his attention back to where Cliff was pointing the light, holding it steady against the wall, and nearly melted to the ground with relief.

Stephen. He was safe.

He was sitting with his back against the wall, wincing at the bright flashlight being shined into his face and shielding his eyes with his left hand. “I hadn’t realized it was that late,” Stephen replied, his voice having a hint of a rasp on the edges.

“What were you doing?” Tony blurted out, already darting toward Stephen, making a mental checklist of his condition. He wasn’t dirty, he seemed coherent, and he was probably hungry or thirsty… “You’ve been gone all day!”

Stephen didn’t answer. Actually, he barely looked at Tony, not even meeting his eyes. Instead, he simply shoved himself up to his feet and brushed off the dirt from his pants. “I will bring my watch next time, I apologize for causing any inconvenience,” Stephen quietly said, keeping his gaze focused on Cliff. Judging by his hesitation to walk any closer, Stephen was still expecting Cliff to take his vengeance at any moment.

Just as he always had, Tony quickly put himself in between the two, holding out his free hand to Stephen. As long as he was a barrier between whatever was frightening Stephen, then everything would be fine. “He’s not going to hurt you, we were just worried when you didn’t come back-”

_ “Tony _ was worried,” Cliff bluntly corrected.

“Well, yeah, I was worried, you just ran out on me, and I didn’t know where you went or if you were coming back and-”

The words dried up in his throat as Stephen’s pale blue eyes finally focused on Tony, and his entire body felt the frigid stare. Yeah, that was his signal to shut up. He could recognize that pretty easily. With the hint taken, Tony stepped a few paces back. “We should… go home,” he murmured, unsure if even that would offend Stephen.

If it did, it wasn’t anymore than Stephen was already pissed at him about, as the doctor walked past him without a word. “Is there a specific path I should take?” Stephen quietly asked Cliff, who motioned to the wall.

“Follow the wall back to the gates. You’ll know the rest.”

“Thank you,” Stephen said, nodding and walking again. In the entire time, he didn’t once look back to make sure Tony was even there, let alone following. Well, if Stephen wanted to be alone, that would unfortunately not be something Tony could do. He already had the entire day to be alone with his thoughts and sulk and be pissed.

Of course, there was no way Tony was saying that aloud.

Both he and Cliff watched in silence as Stephen walked, his wrapped right hand sometimes reaching out and running his fingers along the stone wall. He still didn’t look back. Tony had to swallow down the lump growing in his throat again.

“You may be on the couch,” Cliff huffed, and if judging by the twitching smirk on his face, he was enjoying this far more than Tony wanted to allow.

“You would know,” Tony grumbled back, crossing his arms back around his battery. “I bet Sam sends you to the couch all the time when you’re a moody asshole.”

Once again, his cue to shut up was the burning glare from Cliff’s piercing eyes. He wasn’t very good at this whole ‘making up’ thing.

“I’m going to… Go back home,” Tony said quietly, not daring to meet Cliff’s eyes. “Uh, thanks for the help, feel better, all that, give Sam my love, call me, beep me, if you wanna reach me-”

Before he could embarrass himself any more than he already had, Tony took off to catch up to Stephen. Not only did he have a head start, but it just wasn’t fair with those longer legs of his. It wasn’t until they were at the apartment that Tony fully caught up, or maybe that was just an unconscious attempt to not anger Stephen any further by doing… something.

He was on a roll today, after all. Just fucking up everywhere.

Tony caught the door to the main apartment building just before it could close in his face, and he managed enough courage to call to Stephen. “Hey, I know it’s late, but I can get us some supper going. Anything you had in mind?”

No answer. Stephen didn’t even turn around. Instead, he just walked directly to Tony’s apartment door. Cursing under his breath, Tony jogged to catch the door again, but as he finally walked inside his apartment, his heart sank.

Well, it wasn’t Tony who was going to be on the couch tonight. Apparently that was going to be Stephen.

The other man had already cleared the couch of anything that wasn’t a mass of pillows and blankets and stretched himself out on the cushions.

“You don’t have to…” Tony trailed off, his voice becoming much too close to a whine than he was comfortable with. Still no reply. The only response was Stephen throwing a couple of blankets over himself and curling deeper into the cushions, his eyes already closing.

After standing there for what was far too long just hoping for Stephen to suddenly perk up and talk, Tony slinked off to the bedroom with his figurative tail between his legs. Yeah, he had certainly fucked up. And as he threw himself into the bed and stared at the empty space beside him, his mind was already whirling around any possibility of fixing this.

Probabilities were not looking good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes hello! This chapter was pretty late because one of our authors had college snapping at his heels while the other needed a good mental cooldown. But we are back! And hopefully with much less delays!


	26. A Hero-less World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen still won't talk to him. That's fine, he didn't need Stephen to talk to him. Tony could pass the time just fine by himself, he'd been doing it for months already. That didn't make it any less lonely.

Morning was going to be better, Tony had told himself. As soon as he opened his eyes, greeted by the sunlight peeking through the curtains, he knew that it was going to be better. The first thing he was going to do was make breakfast, maybe something special with that little bit of milk left he had in the fridge before it goes bad, then he was going to sit down with Stephen and talk. And they were going to talk until everything is out in the open and on the table. After that, they’ll watch movies and everything will be better by the time the sun set.

That is, until he stepped into the living room and was greeted with an empty apartment and a note on the table.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath as he flipped the note over, then furrowed his brow. Wow that was… Those could be words? If he squinted hard enough? Tony actually had to sit at the table and study the words for a few minutes before he deciphered them.

_ I’ll be back before curfew  
_ _ Don’t bother looking  
_ __ -S

It shouldn’t have taken so long to decipher such small sentences, but it left Tony feeling a little guilty. He hadn’t really taken into consideration the fact that Stephen couldn’t use his right arm and how much harder that would be. While Tony could help by preparing easy to eat food, that was… about it.

Or about as much as Stephen would allow him.

Pushing aside the note, Tony took a moment to digest them. Stephen was still very much upset at him, and this silent treatment was going to continue. Well, what could he do? Wait? Was he willing to wait for Stephen to break his silence? Was he honestly willing to do anything else?

Well, not right away. If Stephen needed time to calm down, then Tony would have to give it to him. Perhaps if he left the apartment, that would coax Stephen to at least some back inside. There was no need to stay out in the cold and go hungry when there were mountains of blankets and plenty of food.

Or maybe Tony should start worrying about a hunger strike.

As soon as the thought entered his head, Tony stood up from the chair and opened the fridge. There were still a few pieces of meat left over from the meal they had a couple nights ago, but it was still less. Stephen was at least eating something noticeable. It wasn’t a  _ lot, _ but it was something. Tony would take ‘something’ for now.

So now what was he going to do?

He let the question bounce through his head as he gathered up a coat and grabbed a cloth bag for his battery, making sure to check the percentage. It was fully charged, having charged it all night again. It wasn’t something he had done around… other people yet. Having to charge himself like a toy. It could be worse, he told himself. He could just be dead. Unlike what he was doing now, which was taking resources and fucking things up.

Tony shook the thoughts away as he threw the bag over his shoulder. Stop. He wasn’t getting anywhere if he thought like that. Only one mental breakdown at a time between the two of them, and Stephen needed it more than he did. He had his demons for months, now. Stephen was still getting use to his, and needed room to do it. It was for that reason, and others, that Tony decided that he just needed to get out of the apartments, out of the District even.

He left the door unlocked, because he still had to ask Cliff and Sam for a copy of the key, and no one else would bother coming in anyway. What were they going to do? Steal his toasters? Huffing under his breath, Tony stepped outside and started down the stone path to the gates. At least while he was there, he could ask if Cliff and Sam had seen Stephen, make sure his bases were covered. He was sure that Stephen wouldn’t be allowed out without Tony but  _ just _ to make sure…

Turning the corner, Tony felt his stomach sink. Just Sam again. The lone guard was sitting in front of the gate, a book in his hands, just quietly reading. It had to be a job that was lonely enough with a partner, but by yourself? It would have driven Tony mad within the first hour. “No Clifford?” Tony called out and tried to hold back a smirk as Sam almost dropped the book in surprise.

Scrambling up to his feet, Sam brushed the dust off his uniform and looked up, only to immediately relax. “Oh, hi,” Sam sighed, his usually bright attitude noticeably dull. “No Clifford. He had a rough morning.”

“What’s he sick with?” Tony asked, as by now they must have  _ some _ idea to what was wrong. Cliff had his days a few months ago where he looked a step away from death, yet he was still standing guard. He hadn’t given an explanation to his sickness back then, and he wouldn’t now. At least Sam wasn’t so tight lipped.

Well, he normally wasn’t. This time, Sam looked away. “I dunno,” he grunted, already walking towards the gate with his card in hand. “Your ‘Mister Doctor’ is with him, though. He said he wanted to talk to Cliff about the whole ‘murdered your brother’ thing-”

_ “And you let him?!” _ That’s it, Stephen was dead. Absolutely dead. Cliff took the first chance he got with Stephen alone and shot him or stabbed him or broke his neck or buried him alive, and now he was going to have to explain to an entire hospital staff to why Stephen was suddenly  _ dead, _ and this was just going to be one big mess, and then Cliff was going to be arrested for murder, or he wasn’t, but Tony would have to be pissed at him the rest of their lives because he  _ murdered his friend, _ which was  _ not cool, _ even if he did so happen to murder his brother first, which meant he had lost two friends in one go, maybe three if he counted Sam-

“I just checked, and they’re just talking now.”

“Oh.”

So Stephen wasn’t dead. That’s good. Tony didn’t know what was a proper dish to bring to a funeral anyway, and he only just got Stephen cleaned up and looking decent. No, wait, Stephen wasn’t a pet. Stop that.

The gate shuddered open at its usual sluggish pace, and Tony hesitantly stepped through. “Don’t let Doc leave,” he said, only to wince. Stephen was an adult, he shouldn’t need to be kept in a playpen. But Tony was going to do that anyway, at least for now. Stephen didn’t know this area very well, he reasoned with himself.

“Will do, if you bring me something back. I’m out of stuff to do,” Sam sighed, already closing the gate behind Tony.

“Aw, poor Lassie doesn’t have Cliffy-poo to play with,” Tony teased with a smile, then paused. “Uh, don’t tell Doc I told you he can’t leave. Make up a rule.”

“Bring me two things. And Cliff wants something sweet if you can find something, uh, sweet.”

“Done.”

* * *

Tony should have just gone to the marketplace. He should have gone straight to the marketplace and straight home. That would have given Stephen a couple hours to decide if he wanted to come back into the apartment and give Tony a better chance of catching him inside to talk. But he didn’t do that.

Instead, he was standing in front of the therapy group house, or whatever building it was technically called. It was certainly a house at one point, before it had been looted of everything, abandoned, then cracked open for the meetings.

He really shouldn’t be here, thinking what he was thinking. But, really, Fury was asking for it. You don’t hold information from Tony Stark and think that it was going to stay hidden for long. If there was a mystery to solve, then damn it, Tony needed it solved.

He started by circling the building a couple times, looking over every possible entry point. There were three broken windows, one being boarded up, and two doors that were all on the first floor. Tony certainly wasn’t going to get up to the second floor without some sort of ladder and he wasn’t particularly keen on breaking his neck today, and climbing was out of the question with his battery… So he tried the doors. Both were locked, he had seen Fury always lock the front door and he suspected the back door was boarded up on the inside.

The windows were next. While there were two technically open windows, Tony  _ also _ didn’t want to cut himself open on filthy, broken glass. He could also use his battery to knock out the last pieces of glass, but tossing around his heart wasn’t high on his to-do list, either. There just had to be a way to get in that didn’t entail just breaking down the door… Circling the house one last time, he started looking closer at the walls.

“There you are,” he breathed as he came to the left side of the house again, staring down at the aging wall. Leaning down, he shoved aside a few strategically placed pieces of debris and stared at a hole. It wasn’t big, and judging by the chips of paint and the crackling along the edges, whoever was using it still had troubles forcing their way through. It may have just been an animal’s doing, judging by how small the entry really was.

Reaching out, he pulled at the chunks of wood and stone that surrounded the hole, and while some of it was brittle enough to break apart in his hand, the rest held firm. “Shit,” he muttered, brushing his hand against his pants. “Not getting in there like that.”

Standing back up straight, Tony sighed and brushed back his hair. Well, he had three options. One, ignore that this ever happened and leave. Two, find another way in which was probably through broken windows or breaking down the door. Or three…

* * *

_ Smash. _

“That’ll do it!”

It was tricky, doing manual labor while having to carry around your electronic heart in a cloth bag. At three different points, Tony had to stop and readjust the bag over his shoulder. At least it only took a few well-placed blows with a sledgehammer he just so happened to buy at the marketplace to break that hole  _ wide open. _

Dropping the hammer, Tony huffed and admired his handiwork. It wasn’t going to be so easy to hide the damage, but he would think of something. Or not. Maybe it wouldn’t matter. Surely whoever had been here back on Friday wouldn’t be here today, not after… Well, whatever happened. Not to mention that most buildings had to patch up holes made by looters. Fury might just think it was another looter trying to get lucky, only to find a barren home with empty cups of coffee and chairs. Would someone be desperate enough to steal a chair?

Tony shrugged and glanced back to his other bag, where he had picked up a few things for Sam, an old joke book, a dog squeaky toy to hammer home the Lassie and Clifford nicknames and a pair of sunglasses, and found some puppy chow, muddy buddies or whatever it was called, for Cliff. Hopefully that would help settle whatever sweet tooth he had. Oh, and he did find another pair of gloves for Stephen. If he was going to be going out and staring at the sky all day, he was going to do it and be warm.

And he may have bought another bag of grapes.

He grabbed the bag by the straps and tugged it closer, then stooped back down to squeeze his way through the hole. It was a little tight, and he had to clutch his battery to his chest to make it through, but he  _ barely _ made it. Just to make sure no one would take his freshly bought things, he reached out and pulled the bag inside, leaning it against the wall.

Okay. What was he going to do now?

Looking up, Tony squinted. Lights. Light would be helpful. Good thing he came prepared. He shuffled through his bag of goodies and pulled out a flashlight, clicking it on. There was still light coming in through the windows, but where he was going, he may not be so lucky. With a look around, Tony found himself in a different room than the one they always gathered in for meetings. This must be the other half of the house. He was in the kitchen, or what used to be a kitchen, as he could only tell by the tile floors.

“Hello?” he called out, just in case whoever might be here  _ didn’t _ hear him smashing through the wall. No answer. Figures. Well, it wouldn’t be hard to investigate. All he had to do was go up to whatever second floor there was. Poking through a few rooms, though, there was no regular staircase. But there  _ was _ a hole in the roof that had random debris stacked beneath to make just a high enough platform where someone small and agile would be able to slip through.

Tony was certainly not agile, and he wasn’t in the mood to listen to whoever wanted to call him small.

Luckily, though, there was an actual way to get to what he now assumed to be an attic; a pull down staircase from a panel in the roof. Unluckily, it was… in the roof. And there was no way in hell Tony would reach it easily. But at least he knew for sure that the main room had plenty of chairs he could use to stand on…

It took more time than it needed to, having to find the correct door that led to the main room, but at least it was only locked, not boarded up. Better yet, it was locked on the  _ inside. _ With a click, Tony unlocked the door and stepped through, then paused.

Yeah, that was definitely a hole in the ceiling.

It was almost directly above where he and Stephen had been sitting, with plenty of debris scattered over the floor and having to still be cleaned up. Fury would probably do it when he came back on Friday. Looking up, Tony frowned. That was definitely an attic. Meaning it wouldn’t be the most comfortable to stay in. He took one of the chairs and dragged it with him back to the other side of the house and steadied it beneath the panel. As he stepped on top, he carefully adjusted the bag holding his battery to rest against his back, still being slung over his shoulder. The last thing he needed was for it to be knocked out of his grasp or just  _ off. _

Of all the places to die, Tony didn’t want it to be in an abandoned house where no one would find his body until the rotting stench would finally coax Fury to look.

“Last chance to come out,” he called as he steadied the panel with one hand and undid the lock with the other. The staircase almost dropped down instantly, had it not been for Tony quickly catching the first rung. Whoever had been living here had not been using the stairs, since other than the initial drop, the rest of the stairs were almost impossible to move. With some tugging, pulling, and some swears, Tony managed to pull the ladder completely out and letting it unfold to the floor.

With one more adjustment of the battery and checking the wires to make sure everything was still in place, Tony finally climbed up the stairs, even as he felt them creak and groan a bit more than necessary.

The first thing he noticed when he poked his head through the opening was that the ceiling was extremely low. He wouldn’t even be able to stand up straight if he wanted to. Taking out his flashlight again, Tony clicked it back on and shone it across the darkness.

His heart immediately sank.

Spray insulation had been pulled out from the walls and the roof and was piled up in a corner of the attic in what took him a few seconds to realize was an attempt at a mattress. Tony wasn’t sure which parts were meant to be laid on and which may have been pulled on top in an attempt to keep warm. There were cups scattered all across the aging wood floor, ones he recognized as being the same cups the group would use for coffee. He also saw a few articles of clothing, worn and ragged, all in different sizes. Some looked to be little more than rags.

The hole in the floor led directly down into the meeting room below, and as he carefully started stepping up into the attic, he reached out and pressed against the aging floor with one hand. It groaned and sank underneath the small weight, and he immediately pulled his hand back. This entire attic floor was about ready to collapse in some spots where he could see the wood noticeably sag. There were other spots that seemed much more stable, and as he finally stepped onto the wood, there was just a soft creak. Tony just needed to watch his step.

There really wasn’t a reason to why Tony didn’t just turn around and leave after his discovery, since he had seen enough to get a good guess to what was happening, but something urged him on. With every step he took, he first reached out and tested the floor with his hand. This continued on until he reached the pile of spray foam right against the wall. The pile itself wasn’t large, and if it was meant to be a bed, there either wasn’t enough foam or whoever was here wasn’t very big.

What made him pause was the peeking color underneath the foam. He brushed through the pile with one hand, the other still feeling the floor for any sudden instability, and uncovered the source.

“Dammit,” he swore under his breath, his heart sinking further and further into his stomach. Comics. Old comics. They were all stashed away underneath the foam like a dirty secret or a prized possession the owner couldn’t afford to lose. He picked one up carefully, staring at the front cover.

A man in red, white and blue with a shield adorning the same colors, practically vomiting patriotism. The next had a woman in red and blue with fiery hair. The one after that had an assortment of characters, ranging from the same red, white and blue man to a green giant to a man in a metal suit in varying shades of red and gold. The last ones, though, all had a character in a red suit with a spider web pattern across. There were four or five of that same character, all in different degrees of damaged. 

Pages were missing out of all the books, and as he flipped through them, he found ones held together by string in a make-shift spine. Others had pages that were just tucked inside that fluttered out as soon as he picked them up. “Shit,” he hissed, doing his best to put each page back in their rightful comic. With each turn of their pages, though, Tony’s chest tightened as he realized what all these comics were about.

They were all superheroes that didn’t exist in this war-torn world. In a place where the world can’t be saved by a person with super strength or super speed.

Suddenly feeling very dirty in holding the comics that had to be the only bright spot in this person’s life, he tucked them back beneath the foam and made sure they were properly covered. He needed to get out of this place before he broke something, and judging by the volume of the creaking growing louder with every step, that had to be  _ now. _

Somehow, Tony managed to sneak out of the attic without it all collapsing down, and he decided to leave the ladder down. Whoever lived here probably had been using the random holes in the roof for entries, might as well make it easier for them to get into their hiding spot. Tony scooped up his bags and squeezed his way out of the hole he had created, kicking some of the debris to cover as much of the hole as he could.

“Could have gone worse,” Tony sighed, his heart still heavy in his chest. Could he have gone without seeing all that? Probably. He went from curious to guilty in mere minutes. At least now he knew what was going on, and that meant there were solutions he could put in place. Next time in the meeting-

Movement caught the corner of his eye, and his entire body stiffened. Someone caught him. Shit. His hand tightened over the handle of the sledgehammer. He wasn’t very equipped for a fight, because when was he ever with this battery connected to his chest, but if he could just scare off whoever it was… Sucking in a deep breath, Tony turned and lifted the sledgehammer, preparing for a fight.

He didn’t get one.

The second he turned, the figure that had caught his attention bolted. “Hey!” Tony yelped, immediately dropping the sledgehammer. It was too late, though. The admittedly small figure had already darted back into shadows and bushes, and he only caught the smallest glimpses as it darted from safety to safety.

“I’m not gonna hurt you!” Not exactly the most believable statement Tony made, since he was still holding a sledgehammer. The figure never once stopped, and within seconds of spotting it, the figure had darted into an alley and disappeared.

Tony’s shoulders slumped, the sledgehammer head dragging on the ground. Well, he just wasn’t making any friends this week, was he? All he could do was sigh and gather up his things, throwing one look back over his shoulder in the small chance that the figure returned. It didn’t, so Tony started walking, his body feeling twice as heavy as it did when he first came back to the house.

Sam was still alone at the gates when he arrived back to the North District, and the way Sam’s face lit up at the sight of the bag he was carrying reminded him of a child with Christmas.

“What’d you get me?” Sam grinned, and for the first time in days, he seemed genuinely happy. It was a reminder that neither Sam nor Cliff were able to leave these walls unattended, further dragging down his emotional turmoil. Tony was free to do what he wanted, and he usually spent it doing nothing.

“Calm down, Lassie, sit,” Tony chuckled, walking through the gates as they shuddered open. He dropped the hammer and leaned it against the wall, which for some reason didn’t prompt anything from Sam with its sudden existence. Reaching into the bag with everyone’s things, he pulled out the squeaky dog toy and tossed it to Sam. “Fetch.”

Sam almost jerked out of the way, but managed to catch the toy in the last second. It took a couple seconds, but then the smile widened and he squeezed the toy. “I’m gonna annoy the shit outta Cliff,” Sam snickered, turning the toy over in his hands.

“You’re going to do what?”

The accented voice almost had Tony jumping out of his skin, clutching at the metal piece in his chest. “Quit fucking up my heart!” he gasped, finally seeing Cliff walking across the grass to meet them at the gate.

Sam immediately turned around, almost forgetting about Tony entirely. The grin fell away just as fast, replaced with worry. “Are you sure you’re up for duty? It’s just a few more hours,” he said quietly, his hands wrapped around the dog toy.

With his heart finally settling in his chest, Tony took a quick moment to look Cliff over. He certainly looked better than he did yesterday, with a little color to his albeit naturally pale complexion, but still had some of the dark circles under his eyes and a weathered expression. “Did Doc clear you to come back?” he asked, suddenly wishing that he could just go back to the apartment.

Whatever Stephen and Cliff talked about must have gone well, either that or Cliff was extraordinary at cleaning blood off himself.

At first, Cliff’s focus remained on Sam, reaching out and clasping his hand onto his shoulder for a moment, then dropping his arm again. “I’ve been cleared,” he answered, then looking down at Sam’s hands. His brow immediately furrowed. “...What on earth?” he muttered, reaching out and carefully opening up Sam’s hands to look closer.

And that was his cue to leave. Tony knew better than to stay and be interrogated. “I got you stuff, too,” he said quickly, pulling the bag off his shoulder and setting it down at Sam’s feet. “You can fight over the puppy chow, glad you’re feeling better.”

“You brought us dog food?”

“Not that puppy chow,” Cliff corrected with a sigh, and judging by the soft glare from the corner of his eyes, it was more of a threat to Tony for it to  _ not _ be actual puppy food.

“Well, enjoy, have fun, stay healthy, don’t, uh, be unhealthy,” Tony stammered as he stepped away, grabbing at his sledgehammer on the way. While he heard Cliff call after him probably in some effort to ask why he suddenly had a sledgehammer, Sam soon distracted him with happy chatter about the gifts in the bag. At least Tony could count on Sam to be a good distraction.

The walk to the apartment was thankfully quiet, and Tony used the time to think of some excuse to get Stephen to talk to him. Maybe about the grapes? Searching through the last bag, he checked the grapes to make sure they weren’t being crushed by the battery. Thankfully, they were still intact. One less thing he can fuck up.

When he came to his apartment, the door was still unlocked, which meant that Stephen at least hadn’t locked him out. It was why he was pleasantly surprised to open the door and immediately see the sight of Stephen sitting on the couch. This time, he wasn’t sleeping, he was just curled up in a few blankets and reading one of the books that Tony had gotten him a couple days ago. Taking in a deep breath, Tony decided to make the first move.

“Steph? I got you some things at the marketplace, they-”

Stephen didn’t even look up. All he did was hold up a hand, and Tony fell silent.

Oh. So the silent treatment was still going.

Okay.

Visibly deflating, Tony leaned the sledgehammer against the wall and took his battery out of the bag. “I’ll leave it here,” he muttered softly, setting the bag down on the ground next to the other side of the couch. He looked up from the corner of his eye, and Stephen still wasn’t looking at him. He just continued reading his book, as if pretending that Tony wasn’t even there.

Okay. Well… Fine He could handle this.

Fully knowing how pathetic he looked, Tony slinked away from the couch and walked to his bedroom. Today was a long day, he told himself. He deserved a nap. Or just sleep the rest of the day away. Whichever made the rest of this mess go away faster.


	27. Silent No Longer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony can't take the silence any longer. He can't. No matter what it takes, he needs Stephen to talk to him again. He had already been alone for so long. Being alone with another person was just too much.

Morning came the same way that it came every day, through the sunlight peeking through his curtains. One of these days, Tony was actually going to close them, but until then, it was as good an alarm clock as any. It was another night of no dreams, just a blackness that he was thankful for. As long as the nightmares were far from his sleep, then it was considered an accomplishment. Come to think of it, it had been almost a week since his last bad nightmare… Could he be recovering?

Well, he should be recovered by now. Tony wasn’t nearly as bad as when he first came back from Afghanistan. That meant he was better. Was he foolish enough to believe that? Maybe. Depended on how ignorant Tony wanted to be.

Throwing on some fresh clothes and also throwing his battery over his shoulder, Tony walked out of his bedroom and expected to find it empty. It had to be about nine or ten in the morning, plenty of time for Stephen to wake up and leave again, but he paused just outside the doorway. Stephen was still here. He was actually sitting upright on the couch, where Tony could see the edges of his silver streaks that he just  _ had _ to ask how he managed to have silver hair there but nowhere else. Holding his breath, Tony carefully walked towards the couch and peeked over Stephen’s shoulder.

Stephen had the bag he got from the market on his lap. The bag of grapes was sitting to Stephen’s left, with some of the grapes already consumed. Though what perked Tony up most was what was currently on Stephen’s right hand.

It was one of the compression gloves he had gotten Stephen on Friday, right before the meeting. The doctor was tugging on the edges carefully, flexing his hand every now and then, but Tony could still see it shake by the effort of just holding it upright.

“Does it fit-”

_ “Jesus fuck!” _

Stephen had jumped off the couch and several feet back, throwing the bag from the marketplace in the process. The bag of grapes had almost been thrown as well, but at least only some had spilled out onto the couch. His good hand clutched at his chest, and by the pale expression on Stephen’s face, Tony may have done too good of a job to sneak up on him. Chuckling awkwardly, Tony held up his empty hand. “Chill, Doc, I’m not going to hurt you. Does the glove fit? We can go back and get a different size if you want. You’re the doc so I’m assuming you know best.”

All he got in response was a glare. Yeah, he was still in trouble. Stephen’s left hand massaged at his right, tugging at the compression glove to situate properly on his burned skin. Without a word, Stephen walked back to the couch and began to scoop the grapes back into the bag. As soon as he cleared his spot on the couch, Stephen sat back down and retrieved the marketplace goodies from the floor.

And then the silence was back. Tony did sort of deserve it this time, he could admit that to himself. At least Stephen was staying in the apartment, as he probably would have left the moment he saw Tony had woken up. Hoping that this little incident didn’t just put him on thinner ice than he already was, Tony walked into the kitchen to prepare breakfast, brunch, whatever time it was.

It was time for food, that’s all that mattered.

Knowing better than to ask, since he wouldn’t get an answer, Tony dug around in his cabinets before unearthing a jar of peanut butter. Well, sandwiches would be easy enough for Stephen to eat, and Tony didn’t feel like actually cooking… But did he have bread? Should he have picked up more yesterday? Tony searched through his pantry while he toyed with the jar in his other hand, turning it, rolling it, whatever he cared to do-

“Do I want to know why you have a sledgehammer?”

With a yelp, Tony practically threw the jar of peanut butter into the air, only to cringe at the resulting smash as it landed on the kitchen tile. “Dammit,” Tony cursed under his breath, cracking open his eyes to stare at the plastic shards surrounding the mound of peanut butter. Well… If he just scraped off the parts that touched the floor, it should be fine, right?

“So now you decide to talk?” Tony sighed, looking over his shoulder and instantly regretting the words that left his mouth. Stephen was standing in the middle of the living room, having gotten off the couch and started walking to the kitchen like he may have wanted to help, but now just met Tony’s gaze with a cold glare and turned his back again.

“No, wait!” Tony darted out of the kitchen, almost knocked off balance by the battery swinging in his bag. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that, I just got surprised, that’s all.”

“Hmph.” It was all Stephen said in return, sinking down into the couch and already throwing the blankets on top of himself. Shit, if he ruined the one time that Stephen was willing to talk to him-

“Don’t shut me out again,” Tony whined, grabbing a kitchen chair and dragging it into the living room. “Can we talk? You can be pissed again after we talk.”

Stephen was already sank down into the couch, long legs tucked beneath himself and the nest of blankets he had gathered. He had been in the process of dragging his book back to his lap before he paused at Tony’s words. Hope fluttered in Tony’s chest, which turned to relief when Stephen tucked his hands back into his lap, abandoning the book.

“Okay,” Tony said, sucking in a deep breath. He had one chance. Don’t fuck it up. Setting the kitchen chair in front of the couch, Tony sat down and met Stephen’s gaze, no matter how icy it appeared. It didn’t help that his eyes were back to those almost misty blues. He still wasn’t sure if his changing eye color was his imagination or if Stephen was secretly some wizard with secret powers that activate and change the color. Maybe that theory was going a bit too far. Taking in one more breath, Tony forced himself to start.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you, it was shitty of me to attack you with stuff you didn’t even remember doing, stuff that wasn’t your fault You weren’t in a good mental state before you came, and I should have known that adjusting was going to be hard. Especially with the meeting. I shouldn’t have sprung that on you without telling you.” Tony managed to bite back a few extra details, like how he thought Stephen absolutely  _ would not _ agree to come to the meeting in his state, or that Tony had only called the hospital to make sure Stephen couldn’t run to safety, ruining any and all progress. Bringing all of that up would pretty much dismantle his entire apology.

“I just wanted to try to make it easy for you and thought that if I took care of everything, you can focus on recovery and that’s it, and I should have realized that I can’t keep you penned up.” Tony paused, making note of Stephen’s unchanging expression. “Too long, didn’t read, I’m sorry I was a dick.”

Stephen blinked, momentarily confused, then shook his head. “And how can I know that you are truly sorry  _ this _ time? What are you sorry  _ for? _ What did you do?”

Was this a test? Was Tony taking a quiz right now? He was damn good at quizzes. You don’t get into college at 13 years old by flunking tests. “I wasn’t really sorry before, you know that, because I didn’t know what I did wrong. Now I do.” Stephen’s brow furrowed, and he looked like he was about to interrupt before Tony sped onwards. “I treated you like a pet. It took me a while to realize that, and I’m sorry for doing that to you. It was just…” Now should be the time he stopped talking.

Good job, Tony, you’re getting better at this whole ‘social’ thing.

In the resulting silence, Tony cleared his throat. Okay, was he missing anything? “I’m sorry that I drove you out of the apartment, I honestly didn’t realize how much I had fucked up. But I’m sorry for all of that, for this, everything in between. Just…” Please talk to me again. It’s lonely.

...Don’t say that part, that’ll probably ruin the entire apology. Somehow.

Stephen still didn’t move, his eyes laser focused onto Tony’s, like he was waiting for the lie that was just waiting to spill out of Tony’s lips. Any other time, he would be insulted by Stephen’s lack of faith but… Honestly, Tony hadn’t done a lot to keep that faith intact. It was why he held his breath up until the moment Stephen nodded.

“It’s okay.”

_ No, that means he will do it again and expect it to be ‘okay.’ You forgive him, but you are not allowing him to do it again. _

Tao’s words echoed through his head, and Tony barely caught himself from repeating. Reminding Stephen about his injured mentor would probably ruin whatever moment they were having, so… He paraphrased a bit. “That’s not how you accept an apology, Steph, it wasn’t okay for me to do that.”

The corner of Stephen’s lip twitched, and for just a second, his expression softened, until it was masked back over. Damn, he was good at that. “I forgive you, Tony,” he sighed instead, leaning back into the cushions and reaching for his book again.

“So does this mean we’re okay? No more silent treatment? No more hiding on the couch or outside? Friends?” Tony almost bounced in his chair, the relief rushing through him. No, control yourself, don’t push it. Even if Tony really did want Stephen to stop hiding on the couch to sleep.

Stephen’s hand paused as it reached for his book again, and Tony started to fear that keeping Stephen from his reading was going to result in more arguing, but the soft scoff soothed his frazzled nerves. “Yes, we’re fine. Don’t strain your heart anymore than it already has been.”

That was about as good as it was going to get, and Tony would take it. Jumping up from his chair, Tony grinned. “Great! Now that that’s out of the way, let’s eat. I was gonna make some sandwiches and-” Oh. The peanut butter. His shoulders automatically sagged as he stared back into the kitchen, at the mess that had not yet been touched.

“I miss take-out so much,” Tony sighed, practically dragging himself back into the kitchen and searched for a broom. “I hate cooking, I hate the mess it makes, I hate how much  _ time _ it takes…”

The couch creaked behind him, and Tony lifted his head up and saw Stephen approaching the kitchen again. He couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter. They were back on good terms, apparently, or else Stephen would absolutely abandon him to clean up the kitchen by himself.

“Take-out and deliveries were how I survived med school,” Stephen rumbled, his narrowed eyes on the floor. He picked his way through the shards and walked to one corner of the kitchen, then started picking up the larger shards with his left hand. 

By that time, Tony had found the broom and began sweeping up the excess, yet kept his focus strictly on Stephen. He was  _ actually _ talking about himself. His heart fluttered again, and now he was concerned that he could be having heart palpitations instead. “What food do you miss the most?”

“Pizza. Hands down.”

A smile cracked on Tony’s face, and he almost stepped on a plastic shard in his distraction. “Same. Maybe if we get crazy, we can try making pizza. I mean, they have to have ingredients down at the marketplace, right?”

Stephen glanced up from collecting the pieces, then looked around the kitchen, like he was taking inventory to the appliances that they had access to. “Perhaps,” he hummed, then looked back to his work. Stephen was dropping the pieces into the palm of his right hand, which was still shaking to the point that for every three he would pick up, he would lose one back to the floor. Rather than making any sort of scene, though, Tony nudged the trash can closer to Stephen.

See, he was learning! Don’t acknowledge Stephen’s obvious handicap, at least until Stephen brings it up himself. That might have to be rule number one. The rest of the rules can be… figured out later.

As they cleaned up the mess, they talked. It wasn’t anything groundbreaking, but it was talking, and it filled the empty air like nothing else. Stephen’s favorite pizza was chicken and italian sausage. Tony liked pepperoni. Stephen use to be a good cook back in the days before the war, having lived by himself for most of his adult life. That was an interesting detail that Tony tucked away.

After throwing away the entire jar of peanut butter, because even Stephen agreed that it wasn’t worth salvaging off the ground that still had random machinery and tools scattered across the tile, they settled for eating through some of the fruit that was probably a bit too close to going bad for anyone’s comfort. While Tony would have rather treated Stephen to some good meat or just  _ good food _ in general, even he could tell that it wasn’t the time.

Because today was going to be a lazy day for both of them.

What made that all the clearer was when they migrated to the couch with a bowl filled with random fruits and whatever else was laying around. Stephen already tucked into his side without thought, his book abandoned in favor for the food.

“I’m seriously gonna have to feed you up,” Tony said, taking the moment to look over Stephen now that he had the excuse to. “You’re still way too boney. I’m surprised you didn’t catch your death when you stayed outside past curfew.” Tony brought an apple to his lips, but then paused. “What were you doing out there, anyway? I get just avoiding me, but you were out there for a  _ while.” _

Stephen shifted in his seat, noticeably curling closer to himself, and Tony at first thought he fucked up already so close after getting forgiveness. But looking back to his face, he saw the faintest crimson on his cheeks, and those pale eyes darted to the blank TV. “I… I haven’t had the time to simply be outside for months. And it had been so long since I saw the stars properly…”

He paused, as if he had suddenly unveiled some closely guarded secret that Tony had  _ no _ idea what it could be. What, a place with no stars? He could understand the big cities if they were still functioning but… If Stephen had been to a functioning big city, then he certainly would have no reason to come back to this shitty place.

“You like seeing the stars?” Tony hummed, looking away just in case Stephen started feeling uncomfortable. Keep it casual. Keep it quiet. Don’t dig in too deep. Don’t scare Stephen away.

Was this treating him like a pet again? A stray that could run off if he came too close? God, he hoped not.

“In Nebraska, the skies were almost always clear, except in the rare occasions that the harvest kicked up too much debris. My…” Stephen cleared his throat. “I would sit on the roof of the house and watch the stars.” Stephen’s focus remained on the blank TV, but Tony had the feeling that his head was in a separate place entirely. At least let it be a good place, this time.

The conversation fell silent, which was fine. Stephen was talking much  _ much _ more than the last few days, which was enough for Tony. It took Tony eating an entire apple before he realized that they could be digging through their huge stack of DVDs. Reaching blindly, he tugged one out of the stack, which caused the rest to topple over but he’ll clean it later, and dragged himself off the couch.

“Movie time,” Tony chirped, and he could have sworn he heard a sigh of relief behind him as he inserted the disc. Both of them needed a break today, and this was about as good of a way as any.

So they watched movies, sharing the bowl of fruit and etc. between them. The first movie was some action flick that had some of the worst special effects Tony had seen in a near decade, but it was a movie and it took up time. The next was a foreign film of all things, but just as Tony was about to turn it off, Stephen waved him off.

“Turn off the sound,” Stephen insisted, glancing around for some remote, one that was probably lost in the couch and never to be seen again.

Intrigued, Tony did as he was told and lowered the volume down to nothing. Okay, now there was no sound. Now what?

“You’ll be the guy in the hat. I’ll be the one in the suit.”

“What?” Tony blinked, stepping back to the couch and plopping back into his seat. As soon as he sat, he started pulling the blankets back onto him. Like he said, it was getting colder. Having heat was a blessing that wouldn’t come for some time, not until the temperature  _ really _ started to drop.

There was a smirk playing on his lips, and Stephen nodded back to the screen. “A game Christine and I played when we would be in a different country. Dubbing.”

Why did that sound completely stupid and… hilarious at the same time? “I’m down. Want me to start it back over?”

“I think we’re at the perfect starting point right here.” Stephen lifted his hand and pointed at the screen, where what he could only guess to be Russians spies were infiltrating a bank. How original.

_ “Did you bring the glue?” _ Stephen started, his already deep voice starting to roughen to a tone that Tony would certainly not deny hearing. If he was going to do anything to keep that voice going, then playing this weird game would work.

_ “All the glue. Gorilla, Super, Wood, I’ve got it all. I’m the glue man,”  _ Tony replied, already feeling the smile spreading on his face.

_ “Well, Glue Man,” _ Stephen began, his voice  _ somehow _ deepening even more. Shivers were already running down Tony’s spine. Maybe this wasn’t so great of an idea as he thought.  _ “It’s time. To steal the largest Rubber Band Ball.” _

“Fuck yeah,” Tony laughed, dropping back into the couch and getting comfortable.

By the time the movie was barely ten minutes in, they had to pause about six different times because they couldn’t control their fits of laughter. Twenty minutes in, and their lines were spoke between wheezes and snorts. Of course it went to an entire new level when the female characters were introduced, immediately shouldered upon Stephen to perform. Having Stephen try to do a feminine voice and having his voice crackle like a prepubescent boy…

That alone made this entire week worth it.

At twenty-five minutes into the movie, they had to stop. Tony’s chest was hurting from the laughter, since he was damn sure that his lungs had been messed around with when this whole battery got attached to him, and Stephen was wheezing like he had ran a mile. Yet they rode through the pain with smiles and snickers.

They laid on the couch in silence, staring at the once-again blank TV screen. Tony rubbed at his chest, carefully avoiding the plug and trying to massage away the pain. “That was fun,” he breathed, taking in a deep breath and wincing. “Might have to limit our time on that. It wouldn’t be the worst way to die, but short circuiting my heart by laughing too hard isn’t the most glorified death.”

Stephen wheezed beside him, curled up so thick into his blankets that only his head was visible. The grin on his face was refreshing, and it may be the first time that Stephen actually smiled. For real. Not like back in the hospital when Stephen had thought Tony was some soldier and brought back help. This was real.

“I don’t think I’ve…” Stephen began, then quieted again. The grin lessened, already riding down the high. Damn, here Tony thought they could make it through the rest of the day before it got heavy again. “I don’t think I’ve laughed… at all in so long.” The rest of his words were so quiet and rasped in his voice that Tony had to take a moment to really hear them.

Tony could only guess what was going through Stephen’s mind at that moment. Maybe he was thinking that he didn’t deserve to feel happy. That he shouldn’t be allowed to laugh when so many people were hurt, dying or dead. The world was still on his shoulders, and Tony had to help him unload the weight somehow.

But not tonight.

“Then we can do it tomorrow, too. Get you to laugh once a day. That’s my new goal,” Tony chirped, back to grinning as he threw off the blankets. Judging by the sputter from Stephen, Tony had successfully buried Stephen beneath the layers. “It’s bedtime, anyway. I don’t care what time it is. I’m tired, so it’s bedtime.”

Picking up his battery, Tony stood and stretched, feeling his back pop at the motion. Now how was he going to lure Stephen into bed with him… Seduction? Promises of pillows and fluffy blankets? That was about as seductive as it got right now. That is unless Stephen started speaking in that deep voice of his again…

A weapon of mass destruction, that voice. And he’d know.

Glancing over his shoulder, he watched with the same grin as Stephen pushed the blankets off of his head, giving himself a quick shake as he did so. “I have no idea what the time is, either,” Stephen muttered, squinting up at the walls in search for a clock. Tony already knew that the clock was in the kitchen, just out of sight. That was to make sure Tony had the excuse to just do whatever he wanted at any time of day and genuinely have the excuse that he just didn’t  _ know _ what time it was.

It made it awkward when he would go to visit Pepper, only to realize that, yes, it is actually four in the morning.

When Stephen said nothing more, the grin faltered. Maybe he hadn’t fixed all those wounds he inflicted yet. Maybe Stephen just… wanted to stay on the couch. Okay, he could handle that. Baby steps. “I’m gonna clean up quick,” Tony said, though didn’t move for another moment, giving Stephen another chance to speak. When that didn’t happen, Tony let his shoulders slump just the  _ tiniest _ fraction and he walked to the bathroom.

And no, he did not pout. Tony Stark does not  _ pout.  _ He just… Grieves.

Well, if he was going to be alone again tonight, he may as well make use of the privacy. It were those thoughts that fueled him as he made quick work of his nightly routine, maybe even rushing a bit to finish. Whatever the case, Tony tossed his hand towel into the sink and pushed open the bathroom door, only to almost run straight into Stephen waiting outside.

“Shit-” he grunted, his arms wrapping tight around his battery and tucking it to his chest by instinct. If there was one thing that was going to be hit or knocked around, it  _ wasn’t _ going to be his heart.

Stephen jerked back at the same time, and only then did Tony see the change of clothes he held in his hand. “I, ah,” he started, eyes flicking between his clothes, Tony, and the bathroom. “I was going to shower, if the water was still on?”

“Uh, sure?” Tony raised an eyebrow, uncertain to why Stephen was choosing now of all times to shower. Maybe it was that whole ‘silent treatment’ and ‘avoid like the plague’ things catching up to Stephen. “I don’t know if the water is on, or if we got any hot water left.”

“It will do.” Stephen stepped back one more time, giving Tony enough space to pass through. Though just as Tony turned the corner to walk into his room, Stephen spoke up again. “I, uh. I’ll come after I’m finished.”

Tony stiffened midstep, almost stumbling, but before he could even open his mouth to ask if Stephen really meant what he said, Stephen had briskly walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

...What was that? Was that Stephen actually saying that he was going to come to bed? With him?

Fuck, now he wasn’t going to be able to enjoy his privacy. But Stephen was going to be in bed with him, too. What the fuck?! What was he supposed to be feeling? Tony didn’t know, and he didn’t even want to try to sort through all the mixed signals running through his brain as he numbly wandered back into the bedroom.

In the attempt to make the bed look a little more inviting, Tony shoved around the pillows that may have started to mound up on the left side and smoothed out the blankets. Then he stole a couple more off the couch just to make certain there would be enough to keep the both of them warm. He wasn’t sure if Stephen hogged the blankets yet or not, since he had still been in an odd state of mind the last few times they shared a bed, but Tony would be prepared either way.

And he didn’t even have time to worry if Stephen was indeed coming or not because mere moments after he threw on the last blanket, he heard footsteps coming into the room. Turning back, Tony blinked.

Dammit, that haircut looked so damn good. No, stop. Bad time for this.

Shaking his head, Tony motioned to the bed. “I don’t know if you want left or right side?” he asked, taking a step back. He tried to keep his eyes on the bed, but he kept looking back at Stephen out of the corner of his eye.

Stephen was wearing some of the new clothes Tony had bought for him, and even when the sleeves were a little short, it fit him better than he expected. That and coupled with his freshly washed skin and the remains of a flush to his cheeks, of course adding his clean hair and the silver streaks that he just couldn’t believe were real, still shining under the low light with some traces of water… 

Okay, maybe Tony should go on the couch instead.

“Left,” Stephen quietly said, keeping his gaze strictly on the bed. He was empty handed, probably tucking his clothes somewhere to wash later, and his right arm was exposed again. Hopefully that meant that Stephen trusted him enough to expose it, or it meant Stephen was too tired to wrap it in bandages or put it in another compression glove. While the sight of his arm and hand made his gut churn, and probably always would, there was still…

The rest of him.

“Is there any hot water left?” Tony asked, his fingers knotting into the cords that just so happen to connect the battery to his heart. Probably shouldn’t be playing with that. Probably also shouldn’t be making it obvious that he was trying to slip out the room.

“No, it cut off halfway through my shower,” Stephen grunted, furrowing his brow as he peeled back blanket after blanket, as if he was trying to find the mattress underneath.

Damn. No hot shower. A cold shower would probably do the job, too, but not in a pleasant way… Fuck it, he was just going to have to power through. The last thing he wanted to do was make Stephen feel uncomfortable for sleeping in the same bed as him. The bed was big enough to where they could each have their own sides, anyway. It shouldn’t be a problem.

“Well, nighty night,” Tony said, walking over to the other side of the room and flicking off the light. It shrouded them in darkness, which both made it better and worse at the same time. While he could no longer see Stephe, the moment he slid into bed, he could  _ feel _ him.

The little shifts in bed as Stephen found a comfortable position. The heat that was just a little ways away. The fact that he could roll over and be just so close… Of course all these thoughts chose to wait until Stephen was fully lucid and in his own control. That’s when temptation drove home.

But it could just be the fact that it was still so long since he’s shared a bed with anyone beside Stephen in the last week. That had to be it. Tony sighed and finally closed his eyes. That had to be it. Being alone for so long, of course he would attach so hard and so fast to the first person that showed interest.

It would smooth over with time. Had to.

That was when the bed squeaked beside him, and in a matter of seconds, he felt a warm arm draped across his midsection. Even as he knew for a fact that it was the right arm, and that he could feel the tough skin against his shirt and skin, that was only a small percentage of Stephen. The ninety percent that remained that was so close that he could feel the heat radiating off his body was… And he could feel the warm breath against the back of his neck… 

Damnit. He was  _ fucked. _

Tony hoped these feelings would be gone soon. It was his only hope.


	28. Routines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The term 'routine' has been anything but for Stephen in the last four years. That may start to change. Or maybe it would all crumble away by a little phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Yes, we are so sorry that this update took forever to come out! Between sickness and college and work schedules, we had been working on this chapter for literal weeks.

Stephen was warm. He was comfortable. And that wasn’t normal.

This bed wasn’t normal. These blankets weren’t normal. The warmth next to him wasn’t-

Warmth. Why was there warmth? It wasn’t his. It wasn’t the blankets. It wasn’t the constant blazing pain that haunted him at every waking moment. It was…

His eyes fluttered open slowly, and the world around him was blurred and dark. As he grasped at the barely-there waking world, he took inventory over his body. His left arm was numb, as if there was a heavy weight on it. His right was stiff and the prickles of pain were making this gentle awakening much less so. The rest of his body was heavy with sleep, and for just a moment, he was lured towards sleep again. But no, he still had to figure out where this sudden heat was coming from.

At first he attempted just moving his left arm, but there was little give. Was he stuck? Was he being held down? Both?

With a wince, he stretched out his right arm as far as he dared. The sparks of pain helped wake him up that little bit more, and the haze of colors were focusing. Blinking against the small light bleeding into his sight, he pieced together Tony’s bedroom. As he had to for the last few days, his mind was quietly rewinding the past events. His breakdowns, the meetings, their fights, his outings, their make-up, and now morning. But while he usually woke up alone, this was not the case.

In fact, his senses snapped into focus just as he realized that he was very much _not_ alone. Not as he found that his left arm was pinned down by Tony, tucked beneath his body while the right was draped over Tony’s middle. He was, without a doubt, curled up to Tony like a child to an oversized stuffed animal.

The realization had him recoiling, his right arm jerked away while the left was still trapped beneath Tony’s weight. Tony had his back to Stephen, and the thought occurred, probably too late, that Tony may be awake.

Oh God, don’t let Tony be awake.

With his right arm still practically on fire by the sudden movement, Stephen gritted his teeth and curled that arm to his chest. The feverish heat that seemed to always radiate off the arm was a much different warmth compared to the one he held mere seconds ago. He worked out the stiffness as silently as he could, flexing his remaining fingers and trying not to stare at the shake that would probably never leave.

One problem at a time, he told himself. He could better tend to his arm if he was, say, _not_ pinned in bed by Tony’s weight on his other arm.

Looking back to Tony, he flexed his arm beneath Tony’s still form. What could he do to ease Tony off… The easiest would probably be just to yank his arm, but waking Tony up was not preferable. The less he had to explain, if anything, the better. There wasn’t much he could blame on a broken mind anymore, not if he wanted Tony to treat him like an actual person. He could try to use his other hand to prop Tony up just enough to slip his arm out, but his fingers…

There was very little strength in his hand, not with fingers so brittle that they could be snapped off with very little effort. There wasn’t much flesh connecting the tissues to bone, and what did cover it was mostly scar tissue. The three and a half fingers would do very little but bring him that much more pain. He turned his hand, glancing at the back. Perhaps he didn’t need to use his fingers.

Taking in a deep breath, Stephen slowly moved his right hand back down. It inched closer, hovering over the blankets, and stopped just before Tony’s body.

What if they burned Tony? The irrational thought bitterly tore through his mind, and he could already see the outline of a handprint scorned into Tony’s clothed back.

No, he fought back. He wouldn’t burn Tony. And just to prove it to himself, he moved his shaking hand and turned it, resting the back of his hand to Tony’s back. He paused, waiting. Nothing. No shrieks of agony, no biting words, no attempts to flee, nothing. The breath he was holding flew out in a too-loud sigh. Now came the hard part.

With small, careful tugs, Stephen pulled his left arm back, with his shivering hand helping to keep Tony in place. For the most part, it was working. He also accidentally pulled Tony a good inch or two towards him before he wedged his right arm between their bodies enough to hold Tony still. Then after a few more tugs...

Stephen’s arm finally slipped free, and he immediately rolled to the other side of the bed. His breath paused in his throat as he listened closely. No movement. No sound. Looking back to Tony, he watched as his chest rose and fell with steady breath. Did he really get away with all that?

Just to be safe, he was going to assume that he did.

With his freedom earned, Stephen let his breath escape in a long sigh. He closed his eyes and let his thoughts calm one at a time. It had been days since he and Tony had made up, and this was the first time he had woken up before Tony had. It was hard to admit, but they were already forming a routine, one that had been carried over days that actually were quiet and pleasant.

They would wake up, Tony would shower sometimes with hot water and sometimes without, they would eat, and then they would… Relax. Actually relax. Granted, they took Wednesday to go to the market. On Thursday, Tony took Stephen to meet Pepper. Or at least attempted to. Pepper was apparently gone to visit someone named ‘Happy.’ Stephen had learned to assume that all these names were nicknames Tony created for them. It made Stephen wonder if Tony regarded him as Doc to others. Probably. It wasn’t the worst thing Stephen could be called.

It wouldn’t be normal for the entirety of the day to be peaceful, though. Of course not. On the walk to leave the District, he had seized up again at the sight of Cliff. The sight of his practically mirrored brother soaked in blood refused to be shaken from his mind, and he didn’t expect it to fade anytime soon. He still wouldn’t speak about the visions or memories to Tony, not past what he had stammered out that first time. Neither did he talk about him visiting Cliff to try to not only find a solution to his illness but also to discuss what had happened.

Or rather, he tried to. Cliff simply restated that if Cliff was a better brother, he may have cared more. As it stood, the ‘debt’ had been paid, and for all intents and purposes, Cliff had forgiven him.

There were other moments where his sanity would be stripped away, but none that were considered, at least by the current guidelines, abnormal. They would be a few minutes long, and carefully led back by either Tony or dragging himself back out. It was better. Not completely and far from healed, but better.

By the time night came, they had watched a movie to unwind, Tony would work on one of his projects while Stephen read or watched, and they would turn in for the night. Never did Tony make it seem like he didn’t want Stephen to share the bed with him. He also made it seem like he didn’t care either way, even if Stephen knew better.

Tony had been hesitant on removing the spring out of the couch, probably because it would give Stephen a reason to choose that rather than the bed, even if he didn’t say it aloud.

Stephen dragged himself back to the present and let his eyes flutter open. Since he was already awake, may as well start his day with… Whatever he needed to do. The bed creaked with his departure, and he kept the door open just a crack behind him. Hopefully Tony didn’t assume he left again.

Walking into the living room, Stephen paused. What did he want to do? What did he _need_ to do? Eat. He was hungry. He should probably shower, too. Let’s do that. Running his fingers through his hair, he stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Just to be sure, he locked it.

As soon as Stephen saw the shower, it took everything in his body to not rush straight under the head. No, he can take his time. He swallowed and reached down to pull his shirt over his head, then paused. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the mirror. His reflection. The fractured image of freshly trimmed hair against the dark circles under his eyes, jutting cheekbones from the lack of food… And as he lifted up his shirt, he could already start to see the outline of ribs and how his stomach concave inwards.

In a swift motion, Stephen released his shirt and grabbed a towel, then tucked it over the mirror. Even with it covered, though, his eyes couldn’t stray away from where the mirror was. He stripped down quickly, as the towel could fall at any moment and expose him. Stepping into the tub, Stephen could feel his heart started to race in his chest. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling. There were too many thoughts rushing through at once.

The water being dumped over his arm, dead skin slipping off like wet tissue paper. The warmth running over his body for the first time in two weeks, in momentary bliss from a comfort they could barely afford. Rain falling from the sky, icy cold to exposed skin, the darkness making it almost impossible to see where they were going across ravaged war-torn land. Sticky blood slick beneath his hands. Water running down the drain tinged pink with blood.

Gritting his teeth together, Stephen finally turned the knob and gasped when icy water hit his skin. Within seconds, though, it steadily warmed. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back and let the water run down his neck, and he reached back blindly for a rag. While the first time had the shower gone in a blink, he forced his mind to focus on this one. The water running down his body, washing away impurities. Yet he kept his eyes closed. He didn’t want to destroy this fantasy. Let the scars and marks fade away just for a couple minutes.

Let it all fade away.

And the first thing his mind decided to focus upon was what was going to happen now that things had, if temporarily, smoothed over between himself and Tony. How long was he going to be staying here? The hospital needed him, but they needed him intact. So for however long he was going to stay with Tony… There had to be something Tony expected in return. If just to have a good roommate. Apparently one to curl up to at night as Tony had been _insistent_ on them sleeping in the same bed.

Was Tony becoming dependent on him? Was _he_ becoming dependent on Tony?

The thought rooted deep, a shiver riding down his spine. It was true that he had depended on Tony for getting through his initial breakdown, what about past that? Could he allow himself to rely on Tony past that? His left hand tightened on the rag, and he chased the thought away. No, this was merely a comfort that they were sharing. Soon enough, Stephen would go back home to the hospital, and Tony would find someone else to place his focus on. Maybe Bruce. Thor. The guards. This ‘Pepper’ he kept talking about.

What pulled him back out of his thoughts was the sudden change of warm water back to ice cold, with the precise moment that the hot water ran empty. With a yelp, Stephen clamored over the knobs and managed to turn off the water on the third try, leaving him shivering and dripping in the tub.

Okay, now that he had taken up _all_ the hot water once again… All he could hope was that Tony didn’t intend to shower this morning.

Doing his best to not stumble out of the shower or slip on the floor, Stephen grabbed a fresh towel and wrapped it around himself. He was already shivering, something he was ashamed at himself for. Perhaps if he had the proper body weight, he wouldn’t be so affected by the cold. With winter still not quite here, it was going to be a miserable few months. Hopefully he wouldn’t fall ill because of it.

He was sick enough as it was.

Still shivering, Stephen hurried to dry himself off and pull his clothes back on, yet whatever comforting body heat that was held in the threads had already disappeared. He couldn’t go back into the bedroom to get more clothes, either, not without waking Tony. But if he could get to the couch and curl up under the numerous blankets just waiting for him, then perhaps he could scrape together some heat.

He left the bathroom, all while _still_ shivering, and made a dash to the couch. Thankfully, Tony wasn’t around yet to mock him for his desperation for some blankets, and he quickly tucked himself into his corner of the couch. Even with that spring taken out of the other side of the couch, Stephen had already taken that corner as his own, falling into it by habit.

Piling the blankets onto himself, Stephen covered his entire body save for his face and waited. His shivers gradually decreased, and he closed his eyes to relish in the sensation of warmth. It was spreading slowly, as his hands and feet were still ice cold. Of course that didn’t numb out the pain in the right hand. Nothing would. It just made it feel like someone was shoving ice shards under his skin instead of regular pins and needles.

“Aren’t you so nice and cozy?”

Stephen didn’t even jump this time, he had perfectly expected Tony to come and interrupt him just as he was beginning to relax. His eyes fluttered back open, staring up at Tony who was leaning over the back of the couch, his head directly above Stephen’s. The grin on Tony’s face almost made a smirk twitch onto Stephen’s in return. Almost.

“The shower water was cold, I’m just warming back up.” It technically wasn’t a lie. It was more of a cover-up to why there suddenly wasn’t any hot water and he was shivering like he was just forced under ice water for fifteen minutes. He only squeezed himself tighter into the corner when Tony’s grin turned into a frown.

“Shit,” he muttered, then shrugged. “Ah well. Can’t be that bad.” Tony stood back up straight and walked to the bathroom, and Stephen couldn’t help but hear him hum a tune as he did so. What had Tony so cheerful? Just the fact that they ‘made up?’

Letting out a huff, Stephen closed his eyes again. Whatever it was, it must be good. After all, if Tony was really still planning on selling him off to the merchants of death or out to No Man’s Land, he was waiting for a _long_ time to do it. He may as well rest so he could fetch a better price. He certainly wasn’t going to be worth some pocket change, even with his damaged arm.

Not more than a few moments later, a loud swear rattled out of the bathroom. Yep, he definitely used up all the hot water. Stephen probably won’t apologize for it, since Tony had the desire to shower every single day. It was practically a waste of water.

That was when his stomach decided that it didn’t appreciate being empty. With a loud groan that Stephen was thankful Tony couldn’t hear, his stomach rumbled out its complaints. So it seemed that food was the next item on his morning tasks.

All while refusing to release a blanket wrapped around himself, Stephen shuffled to his feet and walked to the kitchen. There may be some fruit that was close to going bad, or some leftovers. Something small. Eating large meals was still something Stephen couldn’t bring himself to do, not when he had been forced to each his body over the last four years that food was not guaranteed and needed to be protected and rationed.

Food became the last thing on his mind as soon as he caught sight of the makeshift calendar on the wall.

Tony had drawn out a calendar, and Stephen realized that not only was it near the end of November, reason enough for the cooling temperatures, but it was in fact Friday.

Friday.

A cold shudder ran down his spine, and he immediately lost whatever appetite he scrounge up. The meetings. He was going to have to go back to the meetings.

Stephen found himself back on the couch moments later, curled back into his blankets and tried to wipe the discovery from his mind. He heard Tony come out of the bathroom, but the other man must have known better than to disturb him. Stephen needed to think. He needed to weigh his options.

“How long are we expected to keep going to these meetings?”

It was as casual and neutral of an opening as Stephen could find, with both he and Tony sitting at the table with what they decided would be dinner. Tony was gradually giving him more food, and other than a few bouts of aches from not only eating more but also more often, it was helping to get his body on a healthy schedule again.

Stephen didn’t have the heart to tell Tony that all this hard work would be undone within a week of returning to the hospital.

Tony paused as he held his sandwich in his hands, mouth still partially open. In the silence, he lowered it back down. “I’m assuming you want an answer other than; until you get better?”

“I would appreciate it, yes,” Stephen said, his voice quiet. The subject alone was going to be awkward to speak around, but with his mental state intact, for the most part, it was one they had to tackle eventually. “Or what you would regard as ‘better.’ You must know that a full recovery is impossible.”

Letting out a long sigh, Tony nodded. “Yeah, I know. I think it’s more for your doctor friends to decide if you’re ‘better’ or not.” He cleared his throat and leaned back into his seat, his brow furrowing in thought. “I’ve bounced between these before. Usually the groups just fell apart because no one would come, or people would leave. I’m about as clueless as you are to how long these things are gonna last. Not forever, I’m sure.”

“Of course.” That is unless there were follow-up meetings, or if the meetings were expanded to hold more people, practically refreshing from the ones that had left… There were many unanswered questions, mostly because it had not been Stephen’s decision to join in the first place.

It had all been orchestrated by Tao, probably finding some advertisements in the marketplace or hearing about it from others. That also included any payment she had to give for him to attend this in the first place, because Stephen highly doubted that Fury, or whoever was staging these, were doing it out of the good will of their heart.

“What I’m assuming is that the group will be held together for however long people need it. We’ve already lost a few people, but it seems like everyone’s clicking in this one, now that you’ve clicked into place,” Tony grinned back at Stephen, who was trying his hardest to not roll his eyes. It only took fracturing Stephen to fit him into the group properly.

Shrugging, Tony took another bite out of his sandwich. Stephen’s eyes wandered away, focusing instead on the battery that sat right beside his plate. For as long as they had been together in this apartment, he had yet to see just _what_ the battery was powering, and how. It certainly wasn’t just hooked up to his chest. Right?

Stephen tucked his right arm deeper into his lap. It was left bare for now, but he would certainly be wearing one of the sleeves or gloves Tony had bought him before they left for the meeting. Letting people look at his scars… No, he wasn’t ready for that. Even if the others probably had seen his injuries, Stephen would rather not put himself up for display if he didn’t have to. The only reason he didn’t have it constantly covered was the irritation from bandages or wraps.

If there was a way Stephen could hide his arm forever without amputation, he would have already found it. There just was no easy path.

“I’m gonna say that we give it one more meeting, okay? Just to see how comfortable you are with it now that you’re on your feet again. If you like it, we keep going. If you don’t, we talk to your doctor friends.”

And if your ‘doctor friends’ won’t let you come back to the hospital, then you have no choice. Again.

The corner of Stephen’s lip twitched, but he held back the retort. It wasn’t Tony’s fault that no one trusted Stephen to have his own wellbeing in mind. Here he was, still struggling to stay on a proper eating or sleeping schedule. Staring at the sandwich in his left hand, he finally sighed in bitter acceptance and bit into it.

“I’ll let you pick the movie tonight if it helps any.”

It won’t, but it was the thought that counts.

* * *

It was already dark by the time both he and Tony left the North District, with Sam and Cliff standing guard. Tony took care of the talking, and Stephen just had to make sure he wasn’t looking directly at Cliff. Stephen wasn’t sure if it bothered Cliff to the fact that he couldn’t look at him without seeing the blood-coated mirage of his brother instead, but he wasn’t going to ask. The less he had to interact with Cliff, the better.

Tony had stayed close to his side the entire time, herding him out the gates and keeping within arm’s distance. It was difficult, but Stephen was managing to keep his pride in check. For now, he would allow Tony to guard his psyche.

The breath that shuddered out of him as soon as they were out of sight of the gate was a bit more dramatic than he had intended, but after a quick pause to gather himself back up, they resumed their quiet walk. Stephen had already learned, for the most part, the easiest path to the group meeting, even if it was in the dark. At least he still had his near-perfect memory when he was aware enough to use it.

“Do you want to hang out with Bruce after the meeting? Just to get out of the apartment.”

Tony’s voice pulled Stephen out of his thoughts, probably the only reason he spoke in the first place. “I don’t believe he’s fond of me,” Stephen sighed, straightening up and taking in their surroundings. Some street lamps were still functioning, giving them just enough light for their path. The streets were emptier than usual, having not seen a single person outside. It could be because of the cold, with people taking shelter earlier. Or maybe it was the danger of night that had them hiding in nooks and corners like rats.

“I don’t know what his deal is, he’s not normally like this,” Tony agreed, one hand once again reaching up to play with the cords hanging down from the battery. He tapped the screen, giving up the percentage of 42%. “Shit, I’m gonna have to charge tonight.”

“Doesn’t that become irritating?”

“Fuck yeah it does. But as long as I got a fresh battery, I only charge once a week. I just don’t like it dropping below fifty is all.” Tony shrugged and tapped the screen again to turn off the screen.

More questions hung on Stephen’s tongue, but he hesitated. If he dug into Tony’s background and the reason why he had that battery, that meant Stephen would need to do the same with his arm. Was there anything Stephen was willing to reveal? Certainly not the cause of his injury. It would lead down a rabbithole Stephen wasn’t sure he could climb out of. Yet it was so intriguing, with his medical brain spinning for answers to how a human being could only live by being attached to a battery.

A faulty pacemaker? It was the only explanation he could find. All he could see were the cords that slipped underneath Tony’s shirt and ended where he assumed was the chest area.

Perhaps Tony was a fully functioning robot with perfect human AI all along. A fully functioning robot made to look perfectly human yet had to be powered by a car battery. Stranger things have happened in this world.

Stephen’s left hand ran across the right, following the stitching of the compression sleeve to make up for the loss of his last two fingers. The entire sleeve had to be a size smaller to make up for the loss of mass of his hand and arm. With it all compressed so tightly, it made his arm look even more weak and fragile than it already had.

“It’s okay if you still don’t want to talk about the arm thing.”

Stephen’s eyes darted back up to Tony’s face, and they paused. Tony’s arms folded around the battery, tucking it to his chest in a way that reminded him of how a child would clutch a pillow or a precious toy. Tony’s gaze didn’t waver away, the whiskey eyes locking Stephen in place.

Tony shrugged when all Stephen could do was stare. “You think way too loud.”

“I apologize if my thoughts are often untasty,” Stephen muttered, his fingers tightening around his injured hand. Extremely untasty. It was a wonder Stephen ever had an appetite with the things his thoughts often centered on.

“I just know because I think the same thing. You’re afraid of someone asking a question you can’t answer, or you’ll say too much. I get it.” Tony paused, reaching up and rubbing at the back of his neck. “I mean, I shouldn’t say ‘I get it’ because it’s not the same, but you know what I mean, I’m just saying that you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to-”

_Ring._

The sound was so startling that Stephen nearly twisted his own wrist off in fright. The pain sent enough shockwaves to make him hiss, and he just barely noticed how Tony reached out, only to catch himself inches away. 

“Shit, that’s my phone,” Tony gasped, snapping his hand back and digging into his pockets. “Might be Bruce, maybe the meeting’s cancelled,” he stammered as he searched, then pulling the flip phone out of his pocket. He snapped it open with a flick of the wrist and was about to pull the phone up to his cheek, only to do a physical double-take at the screen.

“It’s, uh…”

Tony’s eyes flashed to Stephen, then back to the phone. The phone rang two more times before Tony finally answered it and pulled the phone to his ear.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

All Stephen could focus on was Tony’s expression, still battling with the pain shooting through his battered nerves. His fingers trembled as they rubbed against his aching wrist, like he could smooth out the pain like a wrinkle in the compressor’s fabric. He watched Tony’s face change from concern to confusion.

“Yeah, he’s right here with me. We were going to the meeting-”

Cut off. Tony focused on the person on the other end of the call, blinking a few times. “Why wouldn’t it-” Cut off again. He turned away just enough to keep the call out of Stephen’s earshot. More blinking, more confusion. Then his eyes widened.

“Yeah, yeah! I’ll be right here, he’s right here, Can I just pass it over-” Another pause, Tony started to nod. “I’m passing it to him right now. Here-”

Suddenly there was a phone in Stephen’s face, barely inches away. Tony was practically vibrating, smiling widely, eyes shining. He didn't say a word. Just wiggled the phone like it was a set of car keys in front of a toddler's sticky fingers.

Swallowing, Stephen finally reached out and picked the phone out of Tony's hand, then held it to his ear.

"...Hello?"

All he could force out was that single word. The voice on the other end. It sent a shockwave through his body, turning him to stone. His eyes widened and he could feel the knot in his throat. After so long, he finally could hear that voice again.


	29. You are Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A call Stephen was not expecting. A warning he cannot understand. And a decision he cannot accept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! Yes this chapter is late! It is so late. And we are super sorry. The break was good, though, because we are refreshed and we are ready to dive straight back into this story! This is actually the transition from the first arc to the next. Enjoy <3

_**"** _ _ Stephen?” _

“Tao!”

It was the only word that leapt free from his throat. The only word that erupted through his mind. Tao.  _ Tao. _ She was talking. She was right there. Even though Stephen had known she would make a good recovery after her surgeries, even though he was  _ sure _ Tony would tell him if there was news otherwise, hearing her voice…

It was like coming home. Finally home.

He wasn’t certain, but Stephen may have stumbled by the way his legs almost gave out from the relief that swamped over his body. Tao was okay. She was fine. When the call went quiet, Stephen hurried to say something, anything, to make sure she wouldn’t think they had lost connection.

“How are you feeling? Have you recovered? Any pain? Did the stitching come out properly? Are you resting?”

_ “I’m fine.” _

The relief chilled almost as soon as it came. It was so quiet, so curt, so… not Tao. Even in those two little words, Stephen knew that something was wrong. He swallowed down the bile gathering in his mouth. He had been away for two weeks. That had to be enough to know for sure that Tao would pull through without much difficulties.

“Is there something wrong?” Stephen asked, because it was all he could think about. Infection, complications, of course an injury as severe as hers would not be healed from so quickly. The last time he saw her, she had practically been a corpse, lying far too still with too shallow of breath, silent. If there was something wrong, if Stephen wasn’t there to help her-

_ “Where are you?” _

“I-It’s Friday,” he stammered, and the guilt started pooling in his stomach. If Tao needed him right now, Tony would let him go, right? Get out of this meeting to go be with Tao? Certainly he would understand. If he wasn’t there… Stephen swallowed again. “I’m going to my therapy meeting. I went last week as well. I’ve been going to them every time.”

Would Tao be proud of him? Stephen was trying to get better, that had to count for something. He was doing exactly what she had hoped for him to do; recover. Even if he took just the first few steps, it was still recovery, right?

There was silence, and that guilt grew heavier and heavier. The rest of the world faded away, all senses focused only on the sound on the other side of the phone. It was only when Stephen opened his mouth again that Tao spoke.

_ “I’ve been asking for you.” _

It was so quiet, Stephen thought he imagined that tiny voice on the other side. So soft, like a breath against his ear. But such little words sent a surge of emotion through his body, one that almost overthrew him. Guilt. Regret. Pain. There was something wrong.

“I’m right here,” Stephen forced out, his mind still spinning over possibilities. Was Tao dying? Was this her last wish to talk to him? It was forty-five minutes from the meeting place to the hospital, if he ran, would he make it in time?

_ “They wouldn’t tell me where you went. You were gone.” _

“I’m not gone.” No, he wasn’t. He was right here. “I’ve been in a different District, I’m staying with a friend. Wong and Christine just want me to get better, and I  _ am. _ I didn’t leave because I wanted to, I  _ had _ to.” The words were bitter on his tongue, admitting his defeat over his own control. “I… I can’t come home yet.”

Home. It was all he wanted, but it was still held so far away. He needed to get better, first. He needed to piece himself together. It was far too clear to him that all this hard work would be undone the moment another attack would happen or a shooting or an influx of patients. Stephen didn’t want to lose himself again. Never again.

“I can’t come home. Not until I start recovering. I’m sorry.”

A pause.

_ “You’re sorry.” _

Tao’s voice was a whisper, so soft that he thought he misheard. The silence stretched on, painfully so. Only now did Stephen gain some awareness of his surroundings and glanced to his left, where Tony was still standing. His brows were furrowed together, confusion clear across his face.

“Is everything alright?” Tony asked, keeping his voice low. Apparently, it wasn’t low enough.

_ “Who’s there?” _

Stephen bit the inside of his cheek and pulled his gaze away from Tony. The last thing he wanted to do was start broadcasting the call to anyone within earshot, and he certainly didn’t want to tell Tony that Tao’s condition was worrying him. “A, uh, friend. I’m staying with a friend in a different District.”

He could almost hear Tony’s facial muscles stretching with the wide grin that appeared on his face. It took all he had to not roll his eyes. Pressing the phone against his shoulder, he glared. “Shut up.”

“I said nothing,” Tony hummed, grin still firmly in place.

This time, Stephen gave in and rolled his eyes.

Whatever Tao replied was muffled into his shirt, and Stephen quickly lifted the phone and pressed it to his cheek again. “I didn’t hear that, what?” Stephen sighed, his right hand twitching to rub at his temple. Even if he was technically Tony’s guest, he also felt that he was also Tony’s keeper at times. This would be one of them.

_ “That’s where you’re staying, then. With him.” _

It was cold, and Stephen could feel the blood drain out of his face under those piercing words. “I-I…” His mouth dried rapidly, and no words came spilling out to fill in the silence.

_ “They told me you were staying with  _ him.  _ I didn’t believe them. I  _ trusted _ you.” _

“Tao-” This didn’t make sense. What was she saying? “Tao, you met him at the market. Remember? It’s Tony. He’s in my group meetings. He helped me get home, didn’t Wong and Christine tell you? We’re safe-”

_ “No you’re not, you’re not safe. Not with  _ Stark.”

“Yes I am?” He could feel his heart start to beat faster, pushing up against his ribs. What was Tao saying? The entire time Stephen had been in Tony’s presence, he had been safe. Maybe even too safe, with the whole ‘treating him like a pet.’ Tony had been so worried when he was out past curfew, so concerned when he first came to make sure he was eating correctly, dressed warmly...

“I don’t understand,” he breathed, his chest tightening. No, he wasn’t going to panic. Whatever she was thinking, it was clearly a misunderstanding. Tao was just concerned, that was all.

_ “I understand it clearly. I nearly  _ died, _ and you refuse to show the decency to stay. You left-” _

“I didn’t have a choice! Ask Christine and Wong, they-”

_ “Do not talk.” _

Stephen’s mouth clicked shut at the order, as if Tao had grabbed onto his jaws and shut them herself. What happened? He had been gone two weeks.  _ Two weeks. _ Something happened in those two weeks, there had to be something.

Wong and Christine would have called if something happened, right? Why was she…

_ “You chose  _ Stark _ over us. Over me. And for who?” _

“Tao-”

_ “A terrorist.” _

There was so much venom in that single word, Stephen was almost sure it had been injected straight into his veins and burning a path through his body. Every muscle contracted at the world, his right hand curling into a fist.

What?

_ “You’ve abandoned your home, your  _ family, _ to get into bed with a  _ merchant. _ Everything we have worked for was for  _ nothing.  _ All that blood spilled, lives lost, that blood is on your hands, now! You are no longer welcome into this hospital.” _

Her words cut deeper and deeper, each sharper than the last. She took in a deep breath, and delivered the final blow in a cold, barren hiss.

_“You’re not a_ doctor. _You’re nothing._ _Nothing but a traitor.”_

_ Click. _

Silence.

He could hear nothing but the blood thundering in his ears. Nothing. He felt nothing but his insides slowly coming undone, pooling in his stomach as meaty shreds. He felt sick. He felt nothing. He felt hazy. He felt nothing. He felt…

Empty.

“Easy, Steph,” he heard Tony’s words in the distance, somehow too far away yet too close. He heard something fall onto the pavement. It felt like miles away. He couldn’t feel his legs. He couldn’t feel. He couldn’t see. The world wasn’t there. Nothing. Empty. Empty air.

“Shit, easy!” Tony cried out, and his body jerked. He could feel hands. One pressed to his chest, the other to his shoulder. “I’m going to sit you down. Okay? I’m sitting you down.”

He clung to the voice, and he tried to silence the words that echoed within his blank mind. Not a doctor. Not family. Terrorist.  _ Not safe. _ He wasn’t safe. But he was. He was, he had to be.

“Central District, okay? We’re in the Central District. We were going to- shit, uh, we’re in the Central District. It’s… It’s six fifteen at night. We’re in the Central District. I’m Tony Stark. And you’re-”

Not safe. Stephen was  _ not _ safe. Tony Stark was  _ not _ safe.

But he  _ was _ safe. Tony  _ is _ safe.

But he  _ wasn’t. _

But he  _ is. _

He has to be safe. Stephen has to be safe.

“Central District, six-fifteen, I’m Tony Stark, and-”

“S-stop.”

It was all he could force past his lips. He didn’t want to be told he was safe. He didn’t want to be told he was  _ not _ safe. He just…

“O-other… Anything, other…”

The words were choking him as soon as they forced out of his throat, and for a moment, he had been sure vomit would follow. He felt sick. He felt nothing. He didn’t feel safe. He wasn’t  _ safe. _

“Shit, that was the only thing that was working, um. Thor doesn’t live far from here. Do you want to see him? I mean, he might already be gone-” Tony cleared his throat hard. “That won’t work. Um. Random facts. A single strand of spaghetti is called a spaghetto. After Scream came out, caller ID usage was tripled. Bulls are color blind, so seeing red actually doesn’t make them angry. The word kimono literally means ‘thing to wear.’ Ki is ‘wear,’ and mono is ‘thing.’ The full name of Chuck E. Cheese is Charles Entertainment Cheese. Octopuses don’t touch unless they’re mating or fighting. Female octopuses are kinky and do both-”

“S-strangle during mating.”

“Of course you know that one-”

The words continued to pour out of Tony’s mouth, sometimes he caught them and other times it was mere buzzing in the background. It was noise that wasn’t in his head, though. It kept his focus away from his pounding heart. 

“Don’t touch him!”

Tony’s shout shattered whatever calm Stephen had scraped together, igniting every nerve in his body to snap into focus. Danger. He was in danger. All he could do was cower on the ground, like the trash- like the  _ traitor _ he was.

“Shit, I didn’t mean to yell, Doc, I-” Tony trailed off, an obvious attempt to correct his mistake, but it was too little too late.

“What happened?” Another voice. It was close. Too close. Danger. Wasn’t safe.

“Back up,” Tony spoke again, barely keeping his voice low and even, trying to gain back control. “Don’t touch him, just back up and give him room to breathe. He’ll come back. It’s safe. He just needs to know it’s safe.”

But it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. Because Tao said it wasn’t. Tao said he was a traitor. Tao said he wasn’t a doctor. Tao said Tony was dangerous. Tao said it wasn’t safe. It wasn’t safe. It wasn’t safe and he was in danger and he wasn’t a doctor-

“Steph, I need you to breathe. I’ve got your watch. Look at the second hand, just like before. Do you see it?”

Did he see anything? Everything was hazy, too far from his grasp. But there was something. Through the cracked glass, Stephen could make out the face of his watch. With shivering hands, he reached out and took it, feeling the uneven grooves of the metal. He could feel the ticks, the vibrations running into his left hand, while the right only felt pricks of pain. One. Two. Three. Four. Tick, tick, tick.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Breathe. Tick. Tick.

“Are you sure I cannot help escort him? I can handle his weight-”

“You touch him and he’s gonna either shut down or go off the handle. I’m lucky I got him to sit down. We gotta wait it out, trust me.”

Tick. Tick. Tick. Breathe.

Keep breathing. Don’t listen. He was safe. He was safe. Had to be safe. Needed to be safe. If he could just focus on who was here, who was speaking…

There were sounds around him, pacing, scuffing against pavement and cement. There were vibrations against his fingers. There were people just out of his reach. Breathe. Stephen blinked. Breathe. Focus.

There were three people, all sitting on the ground a few feet away. Tony, he knew one was Tony. The other voice, that was Thor. He could recognize the deep tone. The third… Blinking again, Stephen finally looked up. Bruce. The third was Bruce. Thor was sitting between him and Bruce, and all he could see was Bruce’s back turned to him. Like he didn’t want to look.

“Are you back?”

They were words that may end up doing the exact opposite of what they were supposed to achieve, but Stephen nodded. He swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling raw and scratched. Looking down at the watch, he turned it to read the time properly. Six thirty-eight. They were late for the meeting. He made them late.

“Good. Do you want to keep sitting? I don’t have any water, but if we go to the meeting, Fury’s got coffee.”

“I have water,” Thor spoke up, and Stephen focused just enough to realize that Thor was sitting directly in front of him a good five or six feet away. At least he had listened to Tony’s warning. Pulling his bag into his lap, Thor pulled it open and took out the water bottle from last time. Though he hesitated for a moment, he finally stretched out and set the bottle a foot in front of Stephen. “Please, drink. I brought two.”

At least he wasn’t going to hurt Thor by drinking all his water again. His gratitude was stuck in his throat, like everything else, so he simply nodded and picked up the bottle. He tipped it into his mouth and drank, tasting the distinct flavor of once boiled water. Thor must not have a good water supply to resort to boiling it. As he reached out to give it back, Thor just shook his head.

All the while, Bruce still did not budge. Stephen wasn’t even sure why he was here. Why  _ either  _ of them were here.

“Bruce went through the gates not long after we did, Lebowski was going to meet up with him to walk to the meeting.” Ah, so they had front row seats to his breakdown. Again. Stephen took another drink.

Stephen lowered the bottle and finally looked to his left, where Tony was laying on the ground, the battery sitting on his stomach. He was staring up at the dark sky, where stars were just beginning to dot the darkness. “Are we gonna talk about that or…”

“I’d rather not,” Stephen rasped.

“Is anyone missing, hurt or dead?”

“No.” Not in the physical sense.

“Then that’s all I need to know right now.” Tony tucked his arms beneath his head and kept his eyes to the sky, somehow looking at ease even after what had just occurred. 

That acceptance wasn’t safe. Tony wasn’t safe. Tony knew something. Tony had done something. Tao said so. Tao wouldn’t lie to him. Right?

Stephen wanted to stand up. He wanted to do something, anything except sit on the cold ground in the middle of the District. But even thinking of moving had the strength draining out of his body.

“I know a solution,” Thor suddenly boomed, his voice making Stephen wince. Tearing his eyes away from Tony, Stephen could only watch as Thor stood back up and turned to face the buildings right next to them on the sidewalk. He only took a couple seconds to deliberate before boldly stepping up to the front door of the house directly to their right.

It was once a home, that was all Stephen could gather. It was boarded up tightly, from the windows to the front door. Or rather… It  _ ‘was’ _ boarded up.

Thor had already grabbed the first board blocking the front door and pulled it off like it was made of twigs and held there by gum. “The Doctor can rest here,” Thor proclaimed, tugging at the next board.

It was illegal to break into abandoned buildings, all of them knew that. They knew that if military happened to patrol nearby, all four of them would be arrested. None were willing to voice this aloud, though, and only watched as Thor tore the boards off one by one.

“Go Lebowski,” Tony cheered from where he laid on the ground, throwing his fist in the air and making absolutely no attempts to help.

Bruce merely sighed, and in the first movement Stephen had seen from him, stood up and followed Thor. He kicked at the boards to clear the way, though by the way he was starting to wring his hands together, the idea of helping was far from his mind as well. Thor wasn’t discouraged, or maybe didn’t notice, as he was down to the last couple boards.

It only took two times for Thor to slam his weight against the brittle door for the lock to break under the strain. With his victory, Thor pushed the door wide open and walked inside, leaving the mess of wood in his wake. If his hands were injured or even sore from the task, he gave no sign of discomfort.

“Probably didn’t think you’d be breaking the law tonight, did you, Doc?”

Stephen shrugged. It was a law that many broke when there was no shelter. All he needed was a few moments to process his thoughts and they would be on their way.

Or rather that was his hope, as when he started getting to his feet, his legs practically gave way beneath him. Damn. Of all the aftermath symptoms he could have been given to his ‘fits,’ the weakness had to be the most irritating. Stephen didn’t even have to look up to know that Tony was scrambling up to his own feet, as seconds later, a hand was held out in front of him.

Stephen’s mind was too numb to do anything else but have him obey and let Tony help him to his feet and steady him. “I got you,” Tony reminded, tucking his arm beneath Stephen’s good arm to give support. “You’re safe with me.”

Safe.

He wasn’t safe.

The words wouldn’t leave his lips, though, as Tony led him up to the abandoned house.

* * *

“Find anything?”

Thor peeked back around the corner, staring into the main room. “Nothing of value or interest,” he rumbled, brushing his hands across his stained pants. “Whoever may have resided before had been careful in not leaving anything behind.”

Rather, the scavengers that probably tore this house to shreds didn’t leave anything behind. Tony was surprised at what little they did find, being the few pieces of furniture in the living room. The dusty and possibly rotting couch had been surrendered to Stephen immediately, where he laid almost motionless ever since. Bruce had dragged in a wooden kitchen chair from the other room, while Thor had given the reclining chair a chance.

Then it broke through mere minutes after he sat down, and now the cushions were pulled off and on a pile on the floor.

One cushion was quickly claimed by Tony, using it to sit on while on the floor, his back leaned against the couch and the battery sitting in his lap. It was by no means comfortable, but it was better than the cold floor.

Tony, though, wished he brought a few more layers of clothing, because it was fucking  _ cold. _ Even being inside a house, it felt like it did nothing to retain heat. There were no blankets to be found, at least none that Thor and Bruce had found yet, and Tony wanted nothing more than to go home. It didn’t matter if they missed this meeting, something told Tony that it wasn’t worth dragging Stephen into.

Glancing out of the corner of his eyes, Tony examined Stephen for what felt like the hundredth time. The doctor had not moved ever since he had laid down, hadn’t spoken a word, hadn’t looked away from staring up at the cracked ceiling. He had to watch for a few seconds to make sure that Stephen was at least blinking.

What had happened in that call that broke Stephen down so fast? Just as he started getting better, just as he was getting through these episodes…

“Anything to report, Science Bro?” Tony called out, keeping his eyes trained on Stephen. Even when he was talking just a couple feet away, Stephen still didn’t notice or react. If this was going to turn into another catatonic episode…

“Nothing.”

Thor should have picked a better house to break into.

Sighing, Tony turned to face back into the room. Bruce was walking back into the room from the same area Thor was in, claiming the wooden kitchen chair. He sat quietly, keeping his gaze low and avoiding Tony’s at all cost. It was the same as every time he saw Bruce since Stephen’s breakdown. While he knew Bruce to be quiet and reserved, this was something else entirely. This was avoidance and tension.

“Well we’re staying here until Doc’s back to himself. I’m not leaving, and I’m guessing you two don’t have anything better to do.” Tony crossed his arms on top of the battery and perched his chin atop them. His dark eyes flicked between Thor, who was trying to find a comfortable sitting position on the remaining cushions, and Bruce, who still wasn’t looking his direction. “And if I’m the only one who’s gonna talk, you’re going to sit through a year’s worth of Tony’s Random Facts of the Day.”

While Thor perked up at the thought, Bruce practically shuddered. “I don’t understand what you want to do.”

“We’re having our own group meeting, no girls allowed, secret password required.” It was a minor victory when he saw Bruce’s lips twitched into something that may have been a smile, followed by a sigh of exasperation. “So we’re going to start the meeting the same way they would. Say something interesting that happened that isn’t right now.”

“There’s nothing interesting that happens in post-war,” Bruce sighed, rubbing his hands against his face. “It’s normally better if there  _ isn’t _ anything interesting that happens. Whenever something _ does _ happen, it’s another shooting or another ration card shortage or a riot. It’s a common problem of being separated from the rest of society in these sectors.”

“Okay, we’re not getting into politics, even if that is your favorite subject,” Tony interrupted. They could spend all day and night talking about how the sectors were doomed to fail once society was supposed to reconnect, but right now Tony only had room for one headache and that was reserved for… whatever was going on with Stephen.

Tapping his fingers against the battery, Tony glanced at Thor. “How about you, Lebowski? Anything you want to share with the group?” He waved his hand in the air, coaxing the larger man to say something, quite literally  _ anything. _

Thor’s brow furrowed and he shifted on the cushions that were barely large enough to be sat on. Tony may have taken the main seat cushion for himself. “I did not see my family. I stayed home for this week.”

“How come you live separately from them?” Tony prompted, taking the time to get some of his own questions out of his constantly buzzing mind. If there was a time where the more personal secrets could be revealed, it would be here.

Well, not all the secrets. Certainly not all of Tony’s.

“My mother does not wish to leave the family home nor my brother’s resting place. My father is in the hierarchy of the makeshift governing force, thus he will not leave.” Thor glanced down to the floor, reaching out and brushing across the dusty surface. “I may simply be running away from my problems.”

“Wow, you came to that conclusion pretty damn fast,” Tony hummed, his hand turning still.

Thor shrugged and did not lift his head. “I have had many a night to ponder my actions. After Loki passed, I struggled to not only uphold expectations as the surviving son but with my grief. Living in a house filled with memories was becoming unhealthy, so I left. I do not know if I will return. I do have work in this sector, and the ration cards are enough to sustain me…”

But it wasn’t the same. Thor became quiet, running his hand across the dusty floor and tracing unseen patterns. “I do realize that grief and guilt will never truly leave, I still struggle to carry them properly. I will, though. Even if that is not today, I will.”

“Good.” It was all Tony could think to say. It was a situation he could not place himself into, not when he had his close friends in places he could contact easily. Did he struggle with grief and loss? Perhaps. The loss of his career and his workshop. His identity. His health. His freedom. But they were completely different losses than losing a sibling or family. He lost a lifestyle, not a life. He had already lost all those important to him far before the war. Everything else… was taken by Afghanistan.

“I think you’re trying to avoid the issue at hand,” Bruce’s voice poked through his thoughts, and Tony squinted back at him. All the other man had to do was wave his hand towards the motionless figure on the couch. “If this is anything like before-”

“It’s not,” Tony quickly corrected, his fingers tight around the edge of the battery. This wasn’t like the first time.  _ Nothing _ had been like that. “He’s tired. Something shook him up and he needs to think it out. He’ll come back just like he always has.”

Bruce’s lips tightened to a thin line, holding back words Tony was certain he didn’t care to hear, because he had already heard them before. Pet project, tinkering, a toy, all of those. Stephen wasn’t a toy. He wasn’t a piece of machinery that had to be put back together. He was a person.

“If you think you can fix him, then do it. You’re a doctor,” Tony grunted, jerking his head towards Stephen.

“I’ve told you already, I’m  _ not _ that kind of doct-”

“Then stay out of it. You’ve done a wonderful job of doing that so far.”

Bruce flinched, and whatever hard edge he had melted away. Tony could almost see him physically coiling back into his shell. “There are things even you can’t fix-”

“This is not the time,” Thor’s low voice broke through Bruce’s careful words. The man’s narrowed eyes glared between the two, though he lingered on Bruce. “We will not discuss this here nor now.” Turning his head back to Tony, his eyes softened just slightly. “Do you have any idea when the Doctor may be ready to be moved?”

“I’m ready now.”

Tony nearly jumped at the rough voice behind him, then finally scrambled away when he felt the weight shift on the couch. With his arms wrapped tight around the battery, Tony turned to face Stephen, or rather his back, as he was already walking away.

He was unsteady on his feet, but if judging by the stiffness in his shoulders and the way his left hand was curled into a fist, support was not an option. “Thank you for providing a place for me to collect my thoughts,” Stephen said, barely lifting his head to look back at Thor, then turned to the door.

While the rest simply sat in stages of shock, Stephen pulled the nearly destroyed door open and let it clatter shut behind him as he left the house. The silence lasted only a couple seconds, when Tony suddenly remembered that he  _ shouldn’t _ let Stephen just walk home by himself.

“I’m not done talking about this,” Tony quickly said, scooping his battery up and rushing to the door. “I know there’s something you’re not telling me. You’re lucky I don’t have time right now.”

But as he followed Stephen out the house, he knew deep in his gut that Bruce was the least of his worries. Right now, he needed to find out what had shaken Stephen so much in a simple call, but even that seemed to be delayed, as Stephen had fallen back to familiar silence.

Swallowing hard, Tony forced himself to speak. He just needed to get through the necessities. “Are you okay?”

A lengthy pause. “In time.”

“Is anyone hurt, dying or in danger?”

Another pause. “No.”

“Okay.”

Even as more questions lingered on his tongue, Tony resorted to what he had hoped didn’t have to happen again. He walked in silence with Stephen, and hoped that this incident would not put yet another roadblock in Stephen’s way. God knows they had already been through too many.


	30. Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony holds Stephen together. He is the glue that binds him together. He is bedrock, and he is safe.

Could they have gone to the meeting? Yes. Should they have? Probably. Did they? Nope. Were they going to get in trouble next week? Most likely, but Tony wasn’t worried about that. Next week was next week, and right now the only place Stephen and Tony needed to be was home.

Bruce and Thor had departed at the same time they had, deciding to go ahead to the meeting and explain, with as few details as possible, their absence. The group would probably be too distracted by the huge hole in the ceiling to care. Tony almost wished he could attend just to see if he could pry an explanation out of Fury, but that could still be saved for next week.

As they walked in silence, Tony let his thoughts wander, as if they didn’t do that naturally. The chill in the air was still brittle, but without the wind it was manageable. Heating for the apartments was minimal at best, and he reminded himself to throw another layer of blankets onto the bed tonight. Glancing to the sky, he could see no moon. The darkness was broken up only by the occasional working street light, and as they walked, he could see the familiar glow of fire a ways away. The classic trash can fires to keep people warm at night. They would be extinguished soon to keep from alerting the military.

Crunching gravel brought Tony’s attention back to their path, and he blinked. In the distance, he could see the military trucks, and while that wasn’t an unusual sight, the time of day and the sheer  _ amount _ of them was worrisome. There had to be at least six, seven, maybe even  _ nine _ trucks.

Stephen stopped at the same time Tony did, immediately moving to the far left side of the sidewalk. Tony didn’t need to ask, the way his face drained of color spoke for him. Seeing the military was not as normal to Stephen as it was to Tony.

“Hey, it’s fine, it’s not curfew,” Tony soothed the best he could, following Stephen to the far left. As long as he was a barrier between whatever was frightening Stephen, he would be fine. Had to be. It was about all Tony could do. “They’re probably called out. Happens from time to time. We’re not doing anything wrong, so they can’t do anything to us.”

Even when Tony knew this was true, and probably was a recognizable face to the soldiers, having the trucks rumble past still sent chills up his spine. They weren’t in a rush, but were clearly going somewhere important. There was no need to send so many trucks out for a simple patrol. They stayed motionless on the sidewalk, watching as the trucks passed one by one, and it wasn’t until they had all turned a corner and disappeared from sight that they relaxed.

Well, Tony relaxed. Stephen, not so much. Within moments, Stephen had already started walking, his shoulders stiff and his body tense. Telling Stephen to calm down would do more harm than good, so Tony followed in silence. More silence. So much silence.

They stayed in silence until they reached the North District’s gates, where Tony let out a sigh of relief. At least Cliff and Sam were still on duty and hadn’t left their post. That had to count for  _ something. _

They both were leaning their backs against the gate, neither paying attention to the other side of the fence. He could hear their low voices in conversation, just too far away to make out the words.

The first thing that came to Tony’s mind was that this was the perfect opportunity to surprise the two. No matter how silent he approached, no matter what the two were busy doing, he would be sniffed out like a bloodhound. All he would have to do is just… poke them through the fence. Just enough to give them a little fright.

But just as he was about to tell Stephen to stop so he could creep up, his intelligence kicked in. Maybe he  _ shouldn’t _ provoke and scare two men armed to the teeth, especially since he had Stephen beside him. Any bad reaction from Cliff would certainly send Stephen spiraling again. He still needed to ask Stephen about the whole ‘murdered Cliff’s brother’ thing, but there never was the right time.

As if there was the right time to casually bring up past murder.

Letting out a sigh, Tony let the opportunity slip away as he called out to the two. “Saw the trucks going out, is there a problem?”

Tony at least got the satisfaction of seeing Sam jolt from his voice, but Cliff simply looked over his shoulder. His carefully composed face didn’t give any sign of a fright. They both stood up from the fence, Sam pulling out his card and pressing it to the panel on their side of the stone wall.

“You’re back early,” Sam called back over the sound of the gate shuddering open. The damn thing probably needed to be oiled up, but it wasn’t Tony’s problem. If it stopped working,  _ then _ it would be Tony’s problem. “Everything alright?”

“It was a short meeting,” Tony swiftly lied. The less anyone knew about Stephen’s breakdowns, the better. Even if it was to the two men that had witnessed them firsthand. “You didn’t answer my question.” Without looking back, Tony knew that Stephen’s steps had slowed. They had walked through these gates dozens of times by now, yet Stephen still had some sort of fear. Being afraid of a gate wasn’t what Tony would describe as normal, but it was pretty low on the ‘reasons why Stephen is broken’ list.

“It has been decided by higher ranks that this location is no longer where the military should be stationed,” Cliff said, his voice low and calculated as it always was. His dark eyes flicked between Tony and Stephen, and Tony could see the slightest change of him furrowing his brow, but it smoothed over in seconds, back to the mask. “Their authority is needed in the South District. They will be stationed there for however long it is necessary.”

“But you’re still here,” Tony hummed, tilting his head. Was the South District in such horrid shape that an entire  _ military base _ had to be called in?

Cliff nodded. “Abandoning the base is unnecessary. We will still watch the gates, as there are still civilians on the inside. There are technicians inside the base for receiving and transmitting messages.”

So they were down to a skeleton crew. “Wondered why it was getting so quiet here,” he scoffed, walking through the gate. He paused just inside, and after a few hesitant seconds, Stephen joined him. “Anything changing we need to know of?”

“Only one of us will be needed to guard, but we more than likely will continue as usual. We just have a little more freedom. The doctor still needs his visitor's badge to keep our records when he’s passing through the gates.” Cliff’s eyes darted back to Stephen, probably to check for the badge. It was still clipped to his shirt, and as annoying as it was, Stephen had been diligent on wearing it. “He shouldn’t need it other than as a pass through the gates. It will be quiet, and we hope it will remain that way.”

Hope? Why would it not be quiet? Tony opened his mouth to ask, but just as the words were about to spill out, he felt a tug on his sleeve. Glancing down to his arm, he could see Stephen’s trembling left hand still clutching it. That was enough of a hint that they needed to keep moving. Clearing his throat, Tony glanced back up and adjusted his arms around the battery for what felt like the sixteenth time in the last half an hour. “Keep up the good work, stay warm. Enjoy having a little more leash to play with.”

His grin was met with a deadpanned Cliff and a snickering Sam, as most of his jokes or puns were responded with. With their goodbyes passed off, Tony pulled his arm just slightly as a lead to Stephen. The other man responded almost instantly, letting go to walk ahead. Stephen had not spoken the entire time, and he very rarely did. It made Tony wonder if he needed to sit the four of them down to figure out a way to break Stephen out of his shell.

Oh, yeah, the whole ‘murdered your brother’ thing. Bad idea.

The walk was quiet, such a surprise, and Tony had to nudge past Stephen to get to the door. Stephen jerked away at the slightest touch, which was not a good sign. It looked like it was going to be another quiet night, as much as Tony hated it. A quiet night on the couch, cooking an easy meal for Stephen to eat, and then probably retiring early.

Unlocking the apartment door, he let Stephen walk in first, then closed it behind them. Now how was he going to approach this…

“Hey, Steph, about earlier-”

“Is it safe?”

They were words that stopped Tony dead, his body jerking. The words were quiet, barely above a whisper. “Come again?” he asked, slowly walking into the room.

Stephen was still standing in the middle of the room, his back to Tony, and his arms curled in front of him. His voice was just as quiet as he repeated the words. “Is it safe?”

“Is what safe?” Tony asked, keeping his voice low. He walked slowly, each step calculated, trying to close the distance between him and Stephen. He couldn’t help but flinch when he realized exactly what he was doing; treating Stephen like that wounded animal again. Just this time, he told himself. He needed to be careful just this time.

“Am I safe?”

Tony’s brow furrowed, and his mind worked to unpack the words and scrape together a meaning. Was Stephen safe? What did he mean? He took his time in answering, if only to step around Stephen and get a better look at him.

As soon as Tony was in Stephen’s view, his head jerked away, staring at the wall with worryingly empty eyes. Not this again. It took all Tony had to not sigh. Here he thought they were making progress… Whatever had happened in that call was much worse than Stephen was letting on. “Why wouldn’t you be safe?” 

Stephen’s left hand tightened where it was clenching into the compression glove and sleeve, knuckles already white. His right hand was twitching into a fist. Hurting himself. Another bad sign. Maybe the pain was supposed to pull him back into his head. Maybe the pain was a reminder that he was still there. Or maybe he couldn’t feel anything at all.

“Let’s sit down,” Tony offered, reaching out a hand to Stephen. In return, Stephen’s left hand only clenched harder.

“They left, they’re not here anymore. We’re alone.” Tony almost had to strain to hear Stephen’s shuddering words, as if they were rattling in his lungs. The other man took in a staggered breath, and Tony feared that Stephen was on the verge of another collapse. “Two soldiers. That’s it. Just two. It’s not safe here.”

His sentences were fragmented, leaving in short bursts. Tony’s frown deepened, and he knew that he didn’t have a choice. “We’re sitting down,” he tried again, this time reaching out and pressing his palm softly to Stephen’s back. It was more like a tap than anything, but it managed to jerk Stephen out of his frozen stature.

With his battery tucked under the other arm, Tony herded Stephen back to the couch, and tried to fill in the silence with his own voice. Maybe some of it would get through to Stephen. “We’re still as safe as we’ve ever been. It’s not just us that live here. Sam and Cliff will still be at the gate, and it wasn’t like the military was doing much inside the District anyway. This is the safest place in the whole sector, I promise you.”

Stephen more or less collapsed onto the couch rather than sat, his long legs knocking against it. He curled into the cushions immediately, and Tony’s heart sank further. Something from that call had to have triggered this. If no one was dead, dying or missing, did that mean someone was wounded? Had Tao gotten worse in the time that they’ve been away? Surely Wong or Christine would have told him. If he couldn’t get answers out of Stephen, then that may be his next move in calling them.

Tony sat down on the other side of the couch, keeping plenty of space between them. Stephen hadn’t been upsetted by the touches to get him to the couch, but he would not press his luck. He pulled the battery into his lap almost to weigh him down into his spot. “Did someone tell you that you weren’t safe?” he asked, his eyes scanning over Stephen’s body.

His left hand hadn’t released the right yet, knuckles turning white and shivering either from pain or the strain. If there was a way that Tony could get him to let go without spooking him… Nipping his bottom lip, Tony broke his own rule and shifted closer. “I won’t hurt you,” he added, stretching over his battery and reaching for Stephen’s hands.

Tony should have known better, though, because the second his fingers brushed against the back of Stephen’s left hand, the other man jerked away and stood back up.

“I’m not safe here,” Stephen gasped, stumbling with his sudden movement. Had Tony not weighed himself down with the battery, he would have been able to help steady the other man, but Stephen managed to find his balance. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

“Where are you supposed to be?”

“Not here. Not  _ here.” _

And now they were talking in circles. Stephen wasn’t looking at him, instead his eyes were darting to the door, the windows, anywhere he may see as an escape. “Tell me why it isn’t safe here,” Tony attempted again, no longer sure if Stephen was listening to him in the slightest.

“She said-”

There it was. Stephen’s mouth clicked shut as soon as the words left his lips, realizing his own mistake. His left hand twisted the right, and Tony couldn’t allow Stephen to hurt himself any longer, whether he realized he was doing it or not.

Heaving himself up to his feet, Tony grabbed one of the blankets off the couch. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he repeated, and judging by Stephen’s flinch, he must have heard that. Whether he understood was to be seen. Keeping his eyes on Stephen’s twisting hands, Tony stepped closer, laying the blanket across the battery. He couldn’t allow Stephen to back away again. Even when he knew it might hurt, it was going to be better than letting Stephen continue to abuse himself.

With his free hand, Tony grabbed onto Stephen’s left wrist. “Let go,” he murmured, his eyes searching for Stephen’s. The other man jerked in his grasp, an instinct to flee, but Tony held on. “Let go of your hand,” he repeated, and he finally met Stephen’s eyes. They were foggy and distant, but still there. Stephen was still there, just enough of him.

Seconds ticked by, and when Stephen realized that Tony was not letting go, he finally released his wounded hand. Mentally cursing the fact he couldn’t use two hands, Tony swapped his grasp to the right wrist, trying to hold it as gingerly as possible, and placed the hand on top of the blanket. To Stephen’s credit, he stayed still long enough for Tony to start wrapping his hand all the way to the elbow with the blanket. It was tight enough to not slip off, but hopefully it would be some sort of barrier to Stephen’s own attacks.

Once it was wrapped, Tony pressed his free hand on top of Stephen’s covered hand, holding it down. “You can grab the blanket, but I’m not letting you rip your hand off,” Tony warned. Stephen hesitated for a few seconds, unsure if Tony was really giving him permission, but his left hand latched onto the blanket wrapped around his wrist. It was the only solution Tony could think of using just a blanket, but it was working for now.

Still keeping his hand pressed down on top of Stephen’s, he held eye contact. “Tell me what happened earlier. You said that no one’s hurt, missing or dead, but something happened to make you upset.”

The panic that flashed over Stephen’s eyes felt like an icy jab into his stomach, but he held firm. Literally and figuratively, as he felt Stephen pull against him. “Deep breath, we’re alone, no one will hear us.” Tony had a feeling that if he started saying ‘you’re safe,’ he would send Stephen spiralling again.

Stephen practically heaved in a breath, and Tony could see that pieces of him were falling back into place. He wasn’t completely clear, but he was focused on Tony’s face and his words. He took in another breath, steadier than the last. “I…” His words ended in something too close to a whine than Tony was comfortable hearing.

“Take your time. Do you want to sit down?”

This time, the answer was immediate with a nod. Tony nodded back. “We’re going to the couch. I’ll let go of your hand, but the blanket stays on.” Another nod. Though he paused for any sign that Stephen may fight against the restraint of the blanket, he lifted his hand off of Stephen’s. His wounded arm recoiled as soon as Tony released him, bundled to his chest and with the left snaring his fingers into the blanket. At least he wouldn’t be able to hurt himself anymore.

In awkward and slow steps, Tony walked back to the couch and sank down on the left side, while Stephen shuffled to the right. They situated themselves in silence, Stephen curling beneath blankets and Tony placing his battery onto his lap. They were making progress, Tony told himself. As long as he kept Stephen connected to the present, kept him talking and lucid, everything was going to be fine.

Now to see if he could believe his own plan.

Stephen’s left hand kneaded into the blanket, pulling and stretching the fabric, and he took in three deep breaths. They were clumsy and shaky, but better. Stephen was coming back. But apparently not enough.

“I don’t... want to talk.”

Shutting down again, or rather shutting  _ Tony _ out. Tony’s jaw tensed, clenching his teeth and holding back the words that wanted to spill out, that not telling Tony would only mean that the situation will fester inside. Then again, there weren’t many options to learn what had happened on that call if he didn’t hear it from Stephen when he was ready.

He could call the hospital back, but he may not get the whole story, or find what actually caused Stephen to break down. He was still learning the cues, after all. The triggers.

Some were obvious. Don’t mention his arm and hand, don’t talk about the war, don’t talk about what happened  _ during _ the war, and don’t bring up Stephen’s current weaknesses. Others weren’t so simple. There was his avoidance of the military, avoiding all touch if possible… There were so many pieces that Tony needed to find, and he wouldn’t get the answers by asking. Just like now. Tony was going to get nowhere by pressuring Stephen’s answers.

“When you’re ready to talk, whenever that is,” Tony began, finally dropping his gaze and casting it across the living room, to the blank TV and the DVDs scattered in piles on the floor, “you let me know. That goes for anything. Got it?”

There was silence, and then there was the quiet “yes.”

“Good. Now you sit still and I’ll bring you something for your arm. And before you say anything or tell me no, I’m damn sure you’re going to be feeling the abuse you just gave it any moment.” Tony shifted his way off the couch, still making sure to not look in Stephen’s direction. Something else he had learned was that Stephen liked processing his thoughts in silence and without pressure from others. While that was not always possible, Tony could give it to him now.

Heaving his battery onto his shoulder, Tony walked to the bathroom and swiped a towel off of the counter. It wasn’t clean, but with whatever times Tony got a good look at Stephen’s arm, it seemed like the burns were healed enough to not be at risk for infection. He wasn’t an expert at burn treatment, though, just knew the basics from when he would get himself nicked or burnt while in his shop. Tony needed to get creative.

Turning on the cold water, he ran the towel beneath the water, just enough to soak it. For extra measures, he added a bit of warm water to make sure it wasn’t ice cold. He had to set down the battery to wring out the towel, but after a few cycles, he found the perfect temperature and amount of moisture. It wasn’t much, but it would help.

There was very little Tony could do at this point to help, only what Stephen allowed him to do.

Tony carried the towel back to the couch and sank down on his respective side, and only then did he look back at Stephen. The paleness and panicked expression had been soothed, and Stephen had been unwrapping his right hand and arm to closer inspect the damaged limb. Even when the other man tried to hide it, Tony could see the flinches as he pulled off the compression sleeve.

Even after having seen the arm on and off again for two weeks, the burned flesh still left his stomach twisting and turning, and he hoped that Stephen would not be able to read the sick feeling on his face. His mind once again spun around possible causes, but all he knew was that it had been caused by some sort of burn, as even illness and flesh-rotting diseases would not leave a burn-like scar. 

The thoughts were still swarming when he held out the towel in silence, unable to tear his eyes away from the irritated flesh. It would surely be aching more than usual with Stephen worrying at it so frequently, pulling and scratching, The skin was stretched tight already, missing flesh, burned down almost to bone… The agony of such a wound would be immeasurable. Every hole, every pit, every inch of flesh… The way his hand was trembling with the effort to hold it out straight, fingers fixed in a slightly curled position...

It took a few moments of studying the arm before Tony realized just  _ why _ he could see it so clearly, and why Stephen wasn’t grabbing the towel to cover it back up. Stephen was holding out his arm. To him.

Stephen was allowing Tony to take care of him. To touch him. To tend to him.

The realization almost had him drop the towel, all the gruesome thoughts crashing to a halt, and he tried to recover before he could make a fool of himself and ruin the opportunity.

“If it’s too cold, let me know,” Tony said in any attempt to break the awkward silence, and he inched closer, giving Stephen every chance to pull away. When he didn’t, Tony swallowed. How was he going to do this... 

He started slow, reaching out with his other hand and wrapping his fingers around Stephen’s wrist with enough strength to hold it still. He felt Stephen gradually relaxing his arm into his hold, letting it drop. Tony was faintly aware of feeling Stephen’s pulse in his grasp, a little fast for his comfort, but no matter. He couldn’t take a second for granted, even as prickles ran up his spine at the rough texture of the skin.

No, don’t focus on that. Don’t focus on the scars. Focus on Stephen.

Tony started at the hand, draping the cool cloth over the still-shivering fingers. Stephen tensed, and he paused. 

It’s alright, he wanted to say. You can trust me. You’re safe.

Maybe the words got through to Stephen without ever having to be said aloud, because after a few moments, he let his arm go limp again. Something warm fluttered inside Tony’s chest, and he allowed himself to continue.

Tony was careful as he tucked the cloth around Stephen’s fingers, and even when he would brush against the rough skin, Stephen wouldn’t pull away. When he was done with the hand, he shifted his fingers down Stephen’s forearm, and he let himself feel the rough texture as it slid down. His fingertips fell into holes, where Stephen would twitch involuntarily in response, but still did not pull away.

He continued down the wrist, then the forearm, wrapping the towel across the damaged skin as if he was draping it with silk. Every touch was careful and soft, like a feather brushing over the abused flesh. By the time the towel ended, Stephen’s arm was wrapped to the elbow in the cool embrace. Stephen did not pull his arm away.

“You’re safe with me,” Tony murmured, finally looking back up to Stephen. “I promise.”

Stephen swallowed, eyes glistening for a moment too long. “I’m safe,” he breathed in return.

“You’re safe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it's certainly odd to see how the apocalypse actually is happening. Not so much fighting over food and ration cards as it is for... toilet paper. No matter, stay safe everyone!! <3


End file.
